Your Hand In Mine
by MaydayParade8123
Summary: Annabeth's the girl who hardly ever loses a race, and Percy's the new kid who doesn't have time for track team. It's a love story waiting to happen. AU.


_Summary: After a brief, fearful heart flutter, Percy gives her a sidelong glance of recognition. He might still be a little fearful. Sure, the town he and his mom live in now isn't all that big, but what are the chances of someone else choosing to run on this particular backroad? He'd chosen the one the furthest away from the main road for a reason. "Fancy seeing you here," he greets drily, not losing step in the slightest._

_Annabeth Chase gives him a significant look. "Good runners choose good roads, I guess."_

_OR - Annabeth's the girl who hardly ever loses a race, and Percy's the new kid who doesn't have time for track team. It's a love story waiting to happen._

Disclaimer: I don't own the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series.

Author's Note: This took ridiculous amounts of time. The title belongs to Explosions in the Sky. Please forgive the formatting errors, since I've fought with these italics for too long to care anymore. Have a nice day!

;;;

Percy stares at his walls—or, rather, the walls to his new bedroom. They're a less-than-charming shade of white and a far cry from the dark blue that covered the walls of his previous room. His bed is smaller here, too, which would make his new room appear spacious, if it weren't for the numerous cardboard boxes that seem to cover every spare inch of his floor. The place is quite an upgrade from their old city apartment, which was cramped and creaky and hardly worth the monthly rent, but still home.

_Percy's room—shirts_, one of the boxes says. _Percy's room—track stuff_, says another. Percy picks the second one up, pushes it into the furthest corner of his empty closet, and frowns at the sight of a dead beetle.

New school tomorrow, new town yesterday, and a new house today. Percy's never taken all that kindly to new things.

He kicks boxes aside, clearing a path to his window. Perhaps the weirdest part of this whole ordeal is the fact that, when he looks outside, the grass is only a few feet down rather than a dozen. He could use his window as a door if need be.

He unpacks one box of clothes, the one that's supposed to hold shirts, but also has a rogue pair of jeans that, for whatever reason, wasn't packed with the rest. He drapes them over a box, grabs the first t-shirt his hand touches, and resolves to wear it to school tomorrow.

He falls asleep before his mom even calls him for dinner.

;;

Percy's met his fair share of new people today, but none of them made an impression quite like Annabeth Chase.

For one, Coach Dalton (or maybe Dawson, Percy can't keep up with all the names) immediately points her out as his star pupil. She apparently excels at tennis and basketball, can hold her own in a softball game, and tends to beat any race she's challenged to. Coach tells Percy to go to her for all of his gym- and sports-related needs; calls Annabeth Chase his right-hand woman, bragging on her until Percy loses track of all the trophies this girl's won for her school.

Percy, before even meeting Annabeth Chase, decides he'll steer clear of her. Any person who plays that many sports, all the while maintaining nearly perfect grades and becoming a teacher's pet, is not Percy's kind of person. Consider him thoroughly intimidated by Annabeth Chase and all of her achievements—regardless of her winsome, almost princess-like curls and pretty pink lips. Percy will unashamedly declare that he's terrified she'll kick his ass.

The plan of steering clear doesn't go too well, not after Coach decides to send his class out to the track for the day—Percy's _first_day, at that, and it might just be the hottest it's been all year—and Annabeth Chase immediately pins herself to his side.

He figures she'll start spouting off something about how this is _her_school and he better not threaten her superiority, but instead, Annabeth Chase hardly looks at him before she says, "Let's race. One lap."

He barely has time to register what she said before the blonde is jogging ahead, clearly not sticking around to hear the polite refusal that was on the tip of his tongue. Percy wonders what possessed Coach's apparent best student that led her to believe he's in a racing mood when he's most definitely sulking silently. It's his first day at a new school—a day which started with math, continued with English, and led to dressing out in gym. He contemplates whether or not the raincloud over his head isn't visible enough. Maybe he should make the lightning a little more dramatic.

Apparently not one for unfair competitions, Annabeth Chase waits for him to jog up beside her before she really starts running. Percy, sensing that he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter, runs after her with nothing more than a defeated sigh.

He does try his hardest to hold his own—or, at the very least, stay no more than five paces behind her—but it appears Annabeth Chase is about one step down from a _machine_. He's far from shocked when she completes the lap a solid ten seconds before he does; running in a what seems to be an effortless manner. It's his first day of school, again, he's wearing half of the required uniform due to a lack of leftover medium-sized shirts, and he's sticking out like a sore thumb. He thinks he deserves some sympathy for losing, at the very least.

She walks, like their gym coach recommended they should upon sending them out to the track on his _first day at a new school_(did he mention?). Percy can already tell he'll hate this class, but he kept that to himself since the coach was a fair size bigger than him and he wasn't much into feeling his wrath for the rest of the school year. Percy keeps pace beside her at last, pushes his hair out of his face, and bites the inside of his cheek while hoping they aren't half as flushed as they feel. He'll admit it—he's a little embarrassed that she beat him without hardly blinking an eye.

Before he can ask her why she felt the need to challenge him in the first place, she clears her throat. "I'm Annabeth Chase."

"I know," Percy replies, because he does. Coach had boasted about Annabeth Chase for what felt like hours when he first entered through the dull, grey double doors.

"You're new," she says, apparently trying a different approach. "And a runner." Annabeth Chase tips her head at his t-shirt now, the one he'd chosen to wear last night—surprisingly finding some comfort in the logo of his old school, even if he went there for not even a full semester. Everyone else is dressed in a light grey, and Percy's wearing the obnoxiously green shirt he got for being on track team. It was a brief achievement, since he'd moved schools before even the first meet, but they'd given him the shirt on his last day; something to remember his acquaintances by, apparently. It was a nice thought.

So, sure, he's done a bit of track and field. He was often called the best runner on the team at the school before the last (a fact which may or may not have been true) and could typically fare pretty well when he experimented with pole vaulting, but he's not so sure that means anything at a new school.

"A little," he returns, trying to maintain a bit of his modesty. Annabeth Chase beat him without hardly breaking a sweat, so Percy doesn't think he has a right to brag on past accomplishments. "Here and there. It was more for fun than for competition."

"And yet you raced me," Annabeth Chase muses, circling her left wrist idly. Percy notices a beaded bracelet, but he can't read whatever letters are on it, not without gripping her wrist and holding it still for a few long seconds. He decides they probably don't know each other well enough for that. "But no competition?"

"You sound disappointed," Percy comments, wondering if she would wait for him if he bent down to tie his shoe. He decides to test his luck, and, to his amazement, the girl pauses a few steps ahead as he kneels down.

"We need more runners. Half of our track team are freshmen this year, and it'll be hard to whip them into shape by the time our first track meet rolls around," Annabeth Chase admits, though she doesn't sound sheepish about it. "We could use more people with natural talent."

Percy thinks about early morning runs and practices even on rainy days, a very precise diet and more than enough sweat and tears. He's not so sure the talent he possesses is natural. "I'm not very impressive. I don't think I'd help all that much... Besides, I'm sure you'll pull through," he says, a little uncomfortably. Annabeth Chase seems nice, and Percy's always delighted to meet a fellow runner, someone who _gets _it, but he's just moved to a new school mid-semester. He's not so sure he'll be able to catch up in his classes, much less have time for practices on the side.

Annabeth Chase hides her disappointment well, if she feels it at all. "Thanks," she says, giving him a thoughtful once-over. "And keep your head up when you're running; staring at your feet never made anyone run faster."

Percy's fairly sure that he didn't ask for advice, but he's also pretty sure Annabeth Chase is the type to give it regardless. He's learned about forms and how to perfect his own; he knows he's supposed to look forward naturally, not down or around or anywhere else. It's almost like Annabeth Chase assumes he's undereducated. Irritation itches beneath his skin; red-hot and angry and unforgiving. He's had enough belittlement to last him a lifetime, and that was before Annabeth Chase ever glanced his way.

Percy decides to let it go. There's not much use in making enemies on his first day, anyways, and maybe if he's nice enough to her she'll put him on her team if they ever do basketball tournaments in class. It always sucks to be picked last. "Thanks. I'll remember that."

She nods, offers a tight-lipped smile. "See you around." She jogs up ahead of him, and Percy has to admit that her form is nothing short of flawless, even while idly jogging.

His head hurts a little at the thought of all the math homework he has to do tonight, but for now, he decides to pick up the pace a little and place his focus elsewhere.

;;

It might be his imagination, but Percy's almost positive Annabeth Chase is following him over the next few weeks. He sees her what feels like everywhere—outside his English class as he's leaving, a few paces behind him as he heads down the hall to his locker, sitting on the school steps while he walks up. The last one might be more coincidental, but Percy's point stands. He has a feeling Annabeth's scouting him, even after his firm rejection.

She doesn't ask him again, but she does give him little looks and smiles; subtle greetings when she passes by him in the hallway, like she's trying to get on his good side so that he'll agree to joining track team. If he has to be honest, Percy doesn't say no often—doesn't typically enjoy disappointing people with his negative answers—but when he does get the guts, his no's are firm and immutable. He wonders how long it'll take Annabeth Chase to see that he doesn't plan on changing his mind.

The Saturday after his third week at Glennwood High, Percy decides to go for a jog, just to relieve some of the stress he's pinned under due to a new school in a new place (and also maybe to avoid the fact that he needs to unpack in order to have an inhabitable room). It's almost ironic, the way he breathes easier while he's running; feels more relaxed that he did lounging in his bed a half-hour prior. He's about halfway through his much-needed workout when Annabeth Chase falls into pace next to him.

After a brief, fearful heart flutter, Percy gives her a sidelong glance of recognition. He might still be a little fearful. Sure, the town he and his mom live in now isn't all that big, but what are the chances of someone else choosing to run on this particular backroad? He'd chosen the one the furthest away from the main road for a reason. "Fancy seeing you here," he greets drily, not losing step in the slightest.

Annabeth Chase gives him a significant look. "Good runners choose good roads, I guess."

Which is a little arrogant, in some aspects, but Percy thinks that might be Annabeth Chase's angle—confidence is key. He gives a noncommittal grunt in reply, not one for outright disrespect. Running is what Percy likes to call his alone time; the moments where he lets himself appreciate the feel of the air, the burn in his muscles, and not much else. He doesn't like speaking when he runs.

Annabeth Chase seems content to jog beside him wordlessly, though, and that might be worse. Percy feels like he _is_being rude now; ignoring her after she's obviously sacrificing some of her own alone time to run beside him.

He wonders if everyone else gets this kind of welcome in a town like Glennwood. He's guessing the answer is no, since not everyone is a decent runner that somehow managed to capture Annabeth Chase's attention. Percy hasn't decided whether or not he wants it, so far.

Before he can think of a casual conversation starter that doesn't revolve around the weather, Annabeth Chase clears her throat. "See that tree, over there on the left?"

Percy glances over, spotting one that's roots reach about an inch away from the pavement. "Yeah, why?"

"We're going to race as soon as we hit it. Starting line," she informs him simply, like it's not something that needs to be discussed.

"And the finish line?" Percy asks, because as much as he claims that he dislikes the competition aspects of running, he feels like he has something to prove with Annabeth Chase. It's stupid, probably, since he doesn't plan on running track again until next year at the absolute earliest, but Percy isn't in the business of backing down from challenges, either.

She hums thoughtfully. "Run until you can't anymore?" Annabeth Chase suggests. It sounds like she's testing him.

"It'll be a while," he warns, not unkindly.

Annabeth Chase seems to reconsider, giving him a look. Percy doesn't catch the significance there. "Alright, run until we hit the bridge."

"What bri—?"

She takes off as soon as she steps in line with the tree, as promised, and Percy has no choice but to follow suit. He runs.

There's running and then there's racing, Percy believes, and he decided long ago that he preferred one over the other. Racing's never been quite as fun for him—it requires more concentration and motivation. Running's free and relaxing and aimless in a way that racing fails to be. He's allowed to slack off if need be; allowed to work at his own pace without worrying about how well others are doing. Running, for him, is a hobby and not a lifestyle. He has an inkling that Annabeth Chase has a different mindset entirely.

Percy manages to fall barely a step behind her this time, and even Annabeth Chase herself looks impressed while they pause for a second to breathe. Giving him a calculating, considering look that makes Percy feel mildly nauseous, she crosses her arms over her chest. "Remind me again why you don't want to run track for us?"

"I never said in the first place," Percy informs her, but shrugs in the end. "Kind of behind in all my classes. I don't think I could afford losing the study time to practices and meets." He decides not to mention that it takes him a lot longer than most to comprehend material—he just wasn't made for school, that's all. Put him on an open road and he'll walk and run and jog for hours, but set him in front of a textbook and he'll suddenly lose all hope and will.

Annabeth Chase purses her lips and narrows her eyes a little, continuing to study him closely. Percy's nausea reaches a new high. "What if… I could help with your classes, if you want."

Percy huffs out a laugh, picks back up into a lazy jog again. Maybe if he doesn't look at Annabeth Chase, that feeling will go away. "Why am I hearing an unspoken 'if' following that?"

She bumps their elbows together, but he's not positive it's intentional, so he ignores it. "You don't have to join the team. I tutor a lot of people, actually."

"Do you?" Percy asks, but it's less questioning and more rhetorical. He's wasting precious breath right now, and he would love to have a conversation with her over lunch or a walk around town—just not during his running time.

"Tuesdays and Thursdays," she affirms, a little proud. "I get community service hours for it."

Percy grunts in reply—he's generally friendly, he swears, doesn't mind talking for hours with people of all breeds, but running time is _running _time, not talking time. He wants to tell her that this is when he clears his mind and blows off steam, but he supposes that Annabeth Chase'll learn that if she decides to stick around. "I'll manage, I think. Thank you, though."

He has a feeling Annabeth Chase is the kind of girl who doesn't give up easily, so he expects she'll ask him a minimum of three more times before she really stops trying to recruit him as a track runner. He's just fine on his backroads. Besides, she doesn't look too put off by his gentle rejection—seems alright jogging by his side even if he won't join her team.

They only jog for a little longer before Percy slows down, intent on walking the rest of the way back as a cool down. Annabeth Chase stops as he does, looking concerned for a brief moment—glances at his knees and his ankles like he's injured himself doing nothing more than idly running. He very nearly rolls his eyes. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," Percy replies, kindly. "I just have to be back home soon, is all."

Annabeth Chase nods once. "See you around, Percy," she says cordially, waving before she continues running.

Percy watches her go, and just for a second, he kind of wants to be on Annabeth Chase's team—and not just for track, either. He has a hunch she's the kind of person who doesn't see losing as an option, the kind who always has a back-up plan or two, and Percy's always liked driven and prepared people. They balance him out; making up for what he's lacking.

He decides it's time to stop calling her 'Annabeth Chase' in his mind. She almost feels like a friend now, or at least an acquaintance he can see himself getting along with enough to hold a conversation, so there's no need to keep thinking of her as a first and last name—as someone to hold at a distance and as a person he doesn't plan on getting to know past their name.

He watches her leave until he starts to feel creepy. Then he walks back home, taking a wrong turn three times. He'll figure it out eventually.

;;

Annabeth, just Annabeth with no Chase, approaches him two days later while he's stuffing a binder into his locker. After just over a month here, Percy's already managed to turn his locker into a trash-can-pantry-laundry-hamper hybrid. He has a feeling the person who gets his locker next year will curse his name.

"Hey, wanna join track team?" Annabeth questions casually, crossing her arms and leaning up against the locker beside his, like Percy's mindless enough to fall for that. He rolls his eyes, but he might be smiling a little too. It's not that he's starting to enjoy hearing that question—but it always feels nice to know someone needs or wants you, no matter what way it's in. His reluctance might be melting a little more each time. She seems to notice his struggle with his binder, helpfully pushing his locker in while he secures the lock. "Looks like you owe me now."

"You helped me close my locker, you didn't exactly save my life or anything," Percy says, but he grins at her crookedly, too. "Look, don't take this the wrong way. I'd love to, really, but it's just a lot to handle at a new school, especially when I'm so behind…" He trails off, shrugging. "Honestly. Ask me next year and I'll be the first to try out."

Annabeth, again, doesn't seem too bothered. "Where do you sit for lunch?" she inquires, abruptly changing the subject.

Percy glances at his locker. He usually sits right in front of it, actually, occasionally answering texts from old friends or stumbling through some homework. He even called his mom once, just because he was homesick. "In the courtyard," he lies.

"You're lying," Annabeth tells him.

He scowls, clearing his throat a little defensively. "How would you know?"

"I sit in the courtyard," she replies boredly, glancing at her nails like she has better things to do. Knowing Annabeth, she probably does. "And I looked for you yesterday."

"I have second lunch," he tries again, this time telling the truth. Percy wonders why she looked for him. She's boosting his ego a little more each day, honestly.

"So do I," Annabeth says, slowly. "Percy, we have the same fourth period. That means we have the same lunch."

He forgets that Annabeth has the same history class as him, since he slouches in the back and usually flips through the book trying to find something interesting rather than the lesson being taught. Annabeth sits closer to the front, entirely focused on the lesson, and participates in the class discussions that Percy tones out. "Right," he says, a little delayed. "Interesting class, history is."

"You never pay attention." Annabeth gives him a nearly exasperated look, but he catches a hint of amusement, too. "You just flip through the book."

Percy prays to whoever will give him a listen that he doesn't blush at the fact that she's been observing him so closely. _It's just because she wants you on her team_, he reminds himself, but he can't help the niggling thought that there might be another reason. He's human, and Annabeth's a little pretty. Sue him for hoping. "Stop watching me, you big creep," he replies, before he can remember that Annabeth isn't one of his close friends from his old town (or, well, the town before the last—he went to that school for two years) that are used to his personality.

Before he gets the chance to apologize for the potentially offensive response, Annabeth laughs. "I'm just keeping tabs. Waiting for you to tell me you'll join."

Percy huffs out a laugh despite himself, dropping his backpack on the floor and sliding down his locker. "Sorry for lying. I sit here for lunch."

"Interesting," Annabeth says mildly, putting her own bag on the ground. "I sit here, too."

He stares at her for a moment. Percy's a good runner, sure, but he's nothing to fight for. Or, at least, he isn't worth a quarter of the effort Annabeth's putting forth. "You don't _have _to," he tells her, a little cautiously.

She shrugs, digging through her bag until she brandishes a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. "I come bearing food."

"You drive a hard bargain," he mutters. He's not actually sure what that means, since he heard it in a movie the other night, but if he's making no sense Annabeth doesn't mention it. He takes a chip when she offers it. "So..."

"Why'd you move here?" Annabeth asks with no preamble. It's apparent that he and Annabeth are nothing alike as far as approach goes; he likes to fluff up his sentences with niceties until the person can't help but give an amicable response. She's straightforward and doesn't bother sugar-coating or softening the blow. He likes it, for some reason.

"Mom wanted a change," he decides, since that's by far the simplest way to put it. "Why'd _you _move here?"

"I didn't," she shares, rolling her shoulders a little uncomfortably. Percy understands. The lockers aren't all that successful as a comfy backrest. "I've lived here forever."

"I've lived in a few places," Percy says, after a few seconds. "Don't think I've ever gotten a welcome as warm as yours. Nobody's really been all that interested in following me around until I say yes to joining a track team."

It's a little rude but mostly teasing; Annabeth smiles so Percy decides what he said couldn't have been too bad. He's grateful that she hasn't taken offense to any of his attempts at humor thus far. "I find that hard to believe. Nobody following you around?"

Percy wonders if he looks like the kind of guy that attracts stalkers. He reassess Annabeth. "Nobody as dedicated as you."

"Our team could really use you," she mentions again, though it sounds more informative and less persuasive. Annabeth pulls out a notebook and flips through it with one hand while she eats with the other. Percy notices the bracelet on her wrist he'd wondered about on his first day, and takes a moment to read it. _ANNABETH_, it says simply, and Percy's not sure why he thought it would be anything else. "Anyways, where all did you live?"

Percy spouts off a few city names, tacking on the states where necessary, and Annabeth asks to hear about all of them through spoken pros and cons lists. He indulges her, mostly because he feels bad that she's away from her friends just to eat lunch with the new kid in a deserted hallway. That, and he's spent most of their shared time wishing she would stop talking. He owes her a good conversation or two.

Once the lunch bell rings and they've headed for fourth period history, Percy clears his throat. "I, uh, enjoyed the company today? But tomorrow, if you want to go back to sitting with your friends—like, I'm cool with that. I think you should, actually."

"Why's that?" Annabeth asks, nearly running into a short girl as they round the corner.

Percy apologizes twice to the girl, who looks a little scared at the sight of Annabeth. He wonders what kind of reputation she's managed to make for herself, briefly, but decides that it might not be his business. "I feel bad for pulling you away from them. You shouldn't have to do that just to keep the new kid company," he says, with a hint of self-deprecation and a humorless smile. He's been a loner enough times to live through it.

They both pause at Annabeth's desk, though it's mostly unnecessary for him he'd said everything he needed to. Her eyebrows pull together the slightest bit, but Percy can't tell if she's concerned or confused. He clutches tightly at one of his backpack straps. "I sat alone in the courtyard, you know. Besides, the hallway was a little quieter. It was nice."

Percy finds himself a little shocked that all-star Annabeth Chase, who plays and excels at every sport available here and probably has the highest GPA at the school, doesn't have friends she sits with at lunch. He figures it's something that goes best overlooked. "Oh." Annabeth looks down at her desk, shoulders drooping a little as she clears her throat. Percy tucks his bottom lip into his mouth, hating how high his empathy levels are. He _can't _say no to people who have been in the same position as him; friendless and a little lonely. "That's—that's fine, then. If you want to sit with me tomorrow, you can. I can't stop you, anyways."

Annabeth gives a tight smile, not quite up to par with her usual radiance but no less genuine. "Thanks."

"Maybe…" Percy trails off, not sure if the suggestion is out of line. "Maybe you can sit with me whenever you want." He swallows, the words a little harder to say than he would have thought. "Or run with me. Whenever."

Annabeth's smile widens a little. "I'd like that."

"Yeah, so—cool. I'm. Sitting," he says, practically waxing lyrical right before her eyes. He moves to the back of the room before he can cause any more damage.

When the teacher hands out a worksheet and tells them to pair up, Annabeth moves to the empty desk in front of Percy without even glancing at anyone else. For some reason, he has to force his smile away.

;;

Annabeth starts sitting with him on a daily basis, always offering a half of her sandwich or some chips gone uneaten. Percy doesn't always take her up on the offer, but everytime he does Annabeth asks, "Join track team?"

He always says no, but she seems delightfully unbothered. Percy wonders if she even cares whether or not he joins anymore.

In fact, while she used to question him on his personal records and about the track and field competitions he's won, Annabeth doesn't bring up running all that much anymore. She asks him about his favorite TV shows, listens to him while he talks fondly of his mother, and nods diligently while he lists names of old friends. It's nice to have normal conversations with Annabeth, he'll admit, and he comes to find that she's not bad. Definitely an acquired taste—really more like that coffee you take the first sip of and think _god, more sugar please _but get used to after a few more sips, eventually taking a liking to the bitterness.

So, Percy's decided that he can stomach Annabeth's existence. He can even stomach her endless chatter about math class, which is apparently her favorite (Percy said she was an acquired taste, not that he understood that taste in any way, shape, or form).

On a day Percy's decided to flip through his history textbook with real intent, seeing as they have a test after lunch, Annabeth starts asking him questions. He's learned that she only does this on days where she's studied for all of her tests and finished all of her homework—basically, the days in which she's bored.

"What's your favorite color?" she asks first, nodding when Percy tells her it's blue. "Blue's cool."

He agrees with her, humming in acknowledgement when she shares that her favorite is lavender, finally finding the chapter they're supposed to have read and studied the vocabulary for. Percy's not even sure what the Red Scare is, but he's ready to find out.

"Favorite food?" When he looks over at her questioningly, she's examining a pencil like it's an alien object.

"Why are you interviewing me?" Percy asks her, but it's all amusement and no bite.

"I just realized that I didn't know the answers," Annabeth replies with a half-hearted shrug, reaching for his textbook. "I'll help you study."

And help him she does. When they finally pack up and walk to history, Percy feels like he actually paid attention for the last three weeks. Annabeth might be a miracle worker, because when they get test results two days later, he's snagged a B.

"I don't even know how long it's been since I've seen a B on one of my tests," he tells her, half-heartedly tossing the frisbee her way. Annabeth looks less than amused when it falls about a foot in front of him. Open gym is nice and all, Percy thinks, but the fact that they're permitted to do anything _besides _walk out to the track is a little bothersome, since that's the only thing he wants to do.

"That's good," Annabeth says, sitting down on the grass rather than picking up the frisbee like she did the last six times. She ties up her hair, missing a whole chunk of it in the back. Percy looks away and smiles when she frowns upon noticing the forgotten hair, and, honestly, it's a really weird thing for him to consider cute. He's not sure why it is. "I'm oddly proud."

"Thanks," Percy says, and he means it. It's not everyday that he makes someone proud, anyways. "How'd you do?"

"Hm?"

"On the test," he clarifies, tugging at his shirt sleeve. The medium size is an awkward fit on him, not quite just right but far from reaching down to his knees. He wonders why they don't have a size between medium and small, since he's pretty sure that'd be perfect on him. "How did you do?"

"Oh, got a 100."

Percy scowls at that. "It's probably been a while since you've seen a B on one of your tests, too, I'm guessing."

Annabeth stares at him for a long time, and Percy sits down to avoid meeting her eyes. "Yeah, but everyone has different standards. It's hard to compare two students." He nods to himself and rubs at his shoulder, a little embarrassed. He's ready to throw a party over a B and Annabeth's probably had As her entire life. "You could get an A next time."

"'Could,' but not likely," Percy says. "If it's been ages since I've seen a B, it's been lifetimes since my last A. What's your favorite thing to do?"

It's not his smoothest of topic changes, but it's functional. "Run," Annabeth replies.

He laughs a little, leaning back on his hands. "Should have known that one."

"Yours?" Annabeth asks, twirling a curl around her finger. It's probably the most girlish thing he's seen her do since knowing her, and it makes him smile widely. Percy seems to run into some luck, since Annabeth doesn't glance up throughout the duration of his smile. He doesn't even want to know how manic and embarrassing that thing was. "Percy?"

He hums in response, averting his eyes to the ground and pulling at the grass while he thinks. Annabeth is decidedly very pretty. She's also interested in becoming his friend, if only to gently nudge him in the direction of a track meet. Percy's not sure what to do about both of those facts.

"What's your favorite thing to do?" she asks, like she shouldn't have to be saying it at all. She probably shouldn't be. Percy can't remember the last ten minutes of his life.

"Oh, uh… Run. Too. Me, too," he stammers, ripping a blade of grass in half to busy himself. He'll have green beneath his fingernails before he's done.

"Why do you like it?" Annabeth stands up again, walking the few steps forward and yanking him upwards, too, pushing the frisbee into his hand. "Coach is about to make his rounds; you don't want to be sitting down when he does."

"Thanks for the warning," Percy says, finding himself thinking, and not for the first time, that a place on Annabeth's team wouldn't be such a bad spot to hold. "Uh, I like it because… I don't know, really. Kind of like therapy, for me? When I'm angry, I just run. Or when I'm sad, or upset at all. It helps me clear my head, I guess. It makes me feel accomplished, which, as I'm sure you've noticed, isn't a common feeling for me with all the horrible grades."

"Your grades aren't _horrible_," Annabeth tries, taking the frisbee from his hands and fidgeting with it in her own. "Horrible would be failing. You're passing."

Percy shrugs. She's telling the truth, but passing comes with a high price for him. He wishes he was the kind of student that teachers loved automatically; that got leeway without even asking for it and was offered extra credit without a fight. "Yeah, I guess."

"I already offered to help you," Annabeth points out. "And the offer stands."

"Thanks," Percy says, but he's always been bad at asking for help. "I'll… Think about it."

Annabeth nods, taking a step back. "Don't think too hard," she advises. "Hey, do you run every Saturday?"

Percy considers that. He's ran just about every Saturday since he arrived, so he says, "Yeah. Usually the same road."

"Would you hate it if I started joining in?" Annabeth asks, timid for a change. "I know you said it was fine, but you've also mentioned before that running is your 'me time' and all, so… I don't know. Nevermind, if—"

"If you want to run with me," Percy interrupts, surprisingly not repulsed at the idea, "nobody can stop you." That sounds too serious and heartfelt for Percy's liking, so he adds "At least not until I get a restraining order for you following me around."

Annabeth scoffs at that, hitting him lightly with the frisbee, making his hand jolt up to block the next blow reflexively. She hits his hand the second time, and Percy takes the frisbee from her. "Please. I never followed you."

"Mhm," Percy says, smiling to himself, "yeah, not buying it, but I'll pretend I am."

She looks like she's ready to argue in her defense, but the bell rings before she can get a word out. "I used to run there, too," she says a second later. "I didn't follow you there."

A significant look and a wave later, Annabeth walks back to the gym doors and disappears into the girls' locker room. Percy isn't sure what to make of that, as per usual with Annabeth.

;;

Annabeth shows up that Saturday, at the same time and nearly the same place as the first time. She doesn't greet him vocally, but she does knock their elbows together. This time, it's intentional.

They run in silence until they hit the bridge, where Percy decides to take a break, leaning against the metal railing. "Morning," he says.

"Afternoon," Annabeth replies, pointedly. Percy woke up around two hours ago, so it's still morning to him. "Heading home?"

Percy hesitates, because, if it were any other day, he would be on his merry way about this time. "I've been thinking," he starts, stretching out his right leg. "About the offer."

"You're really going to join?" Annabeth asks, looking confused but a little pleased all the same.

"I…" Percy feels inexplicably awkward, now, but he charges onward. "I meant the tutoring thing. Or homework help. Whatever."

Annabeth doesn't look any less pleased at that. "Oh!"

"Yeah, I… Sorry. I should have told you that at first." He rubs the back of his neck and considers retying his shoes, even if they're double-knotted and definitely not coming off on their own.

"It's fine," Annabeth waves him off. "Any time in particular? Like, just during lunch, or after school some days?"

Percy's not sure where he stands here, but he takes the plunge anyways. He'd rather be impulsive and make a fool out of himself than waste half his life worrying about what he's saying. "I wasn't sure. Are you free, um, now?"

She looks a little surprised, but nods. "Yeah, Saturdays are homework days for me. And now running days." She tips her head forward a little, and Percy watches her eyelashes as she blinks. He supposes he's the creep, now.

"Now would be nice," he admits. "Sundays are kind of me and Mom's day, since it's the only day she doesn't work. And I was just thinking since we already run on Saturdays, might as well just get it all over with."

For the first time, Annabeth looks a little offended. "'Get it all over with'?" She laughs, though it seems a little less humored than usual. "If you hated my company that much, all you had to do was say so."

Percy grimaces. As much as he tries to view being impetuous as an advantage, it's just as much a curse—he doesn't think before he speaks, more often than not. "I didn't mean it that way. I just meant, like, Saturdays could be like—our day-thing, or something. Sorry, that sounds stupid. I was just thinking, we could kill two birds with one stone, since we'd already be together." He frowns a little, his words continuing to fall out without much permission. "I never realized how horrible that saying was. I don't really want to kill birds. I mean, like, spiders, maybe. Birds aren't bad people."

"Two spiders with one stone," Annabeth muses. "Birds aren't people at all, by the way."

Fair point. Annabeth's smart, she is. That's why he needs her to tutor him. "Right. So are you, like, up for now?"

"I'm thinking I want to shower and possibly grab my backpack first," she answers. "But we could meet at the library?"

Percy doesn't like the sound of that. Running is his quiet time, save the ambience of nature and the rhythm of his footfalls. Other than that, he likes to avoid silence. "Why don't we go to that cafe? The only one here?"

Annabeth nods, pushing what looks like a very sweaty curl out of her face. Percy's glad he's never let his hair get all that long; he can't imagine how annoying it is after a run. "That's fine. It'll probably take me a half-hour."

"Me too, probably." Silence. "Right. I'm gonna…"

"Go?" she suggests. "Hurry up. Spiders to kill with one stone and all that."

;;

Percy lucks out on Annabeth finding him, he decides. She somehow helps him understand not only the current math lesson he's stuck on, but two other lessons as well. She even writes him a cheat sheet that'll be able to answer most homework problems he has for the remainder of the chapter.

"Math is all rules," Annabeth explains, walking him through a third synthetic division problem. "And as long as you know your rules, and the exceptions, you're golden."

Percy's not so sure that's true, but Annabeth says it with so much confidence that he believes her. "And what do I do once I get here?" he asks, tapping his pencil against his paper to point out where his issue is. He feels like he might know the answer, but everything seems simpler when Annabeth says it.

They spend two hours together, starting and finishing all of their weekend homework in each other's presence despite the fact that they're in two different math and english courses. History, they do together, and Percy can proudly declare that not only does he know what McCarthyism is, but he can explain it in detail. With _dates_.

They start packing up their mess of a table, half of Annabeth's worksheets on Percy's side, somehow, and Percy's math book on top of Annabeth's own. After returning a project rubric to Annabeth's waiting hand, he clears his throat. "Uh, thanks. A lot. You helped a lot."

"You're welcome a lot," she responds, lips twitching. "It was nice a lot."

Percy rolls his eyes, since Annabeth never passes up an opportunity to embarrass him. "Shut up." After a sidelong glance, he adds. "A lot."

Annabeth laughs abruptly, like she's been holding it in for a while. Percy likes making people laugh—it's his specialty, honestly, whether it be through unintentional humor or purposeful jokes. He's found that he's more amusing when he isn't trying. Annabeth stands, hiking her backpack up her shoulder. Percy looks up at her. "I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, Monday," he says, though it sounds less like a fact and more like a promise. He's not sure why he's promising to see her; they'll run into each other whether he likes it or not, really.

Annabeth smirks at him, shoving her free hand in her back pocket. "Wanna join track team?"

He bites the inside of his cheek, glancing down at the table before meeting her eyes again. He's pretty sure they just had their first meet, and it's far too late for him to join, but Annabeth asks anyway. He wonders if it's become A Thing, capital letters and all. He might want it to be A Thing. "I'm good."

"Suit yourself," Annabeth replies, and then she leaves.

Percy does too, but it's with a backpack full of completed homework and a phone with a new number saved under 'Annabeth.' It's not monumental or anything, but Percy's still the happiest he's been since they moved to Glennwood.

;;

"Let's race," Annabeth suggests, next Thursday while they're out at the track. Percy's seeing a pattern here. "Just one lap. Don't give me that look, I won't bully you into joining. Not today, anyways."

He allows himself to smile. "Alright." He starts running.

Despite his early start, Annabeth catches up to him in seconds. It's almost _annoying_, how she runs—all perfect form and focused and nearly mechanical. He has an inkling she's spent hours poring over instructional articles and hanging on to her coach's every word while she learned the technical side of running. He wants to ask her if it's fun for her anymore or if she calls it fun from habit and a need to make herself believe it is.

Percy's also aware how heavy that is—questioning a person's passion—so he decides to save that for later. It's an inquiry best saved for friends who have known each other longer than just under two months.

Annabeth wins, but just barely. Percy braces himself on his thighs while he tries to drag some oxygen into his lungs, and she takes five or six relaxed breaths before smirking. "I beat you again."

He would shake his fist at her menacingly if it weren't for his lack of breath. "You did."

"That's bragging rights for a week, at least."

Percy thinks Annabeth'll still be boasting about it years from now, when they're flipping through college textbooks and pretending to study. And, quietly and shockingly but no less surely, Percy decides that he wants that—to know Annabeth long term. He wants to sit next to her in economics next year; wants to fill out college applications while she does the same at his side; wants to watch movies with her on an uncomfortable bed that'll probably be in his dorm room. Percy might want to be on a bed with Annabeth, period.

That thought's mildly disturbing, so Percy decides to get the hell out of that lane and vows to never put on his blinker to merge again. "Congratulations," he blurts as they start walking. "On the win. It was fair and square. Even if I got a head start and technically cheated."

Annabeth gives him a pointed look. "And what did you learn?" She draws out the last word. It makes his heart beat faster for a second, and Percy slams on his (mental) brakes.

Annabeth's always been pretty—he noticed that the first time Coach Dalton said her name in the gym—but it's something he's taken to overlooking. It's hard to do that now, with her attention focused solely on him and her lips hinting at a smile and teasing glint in her eyes, sunlight making her skin glow like an actual movie star. Percy, fleetingly, allows himself to wonder whether or not she's flirting with him. He wonders if he wants her to be.

"Percy?"

He blinks, not even remembering her original question. Percy tries his luck with an answer. "Sorry, spaced out. What did you ask?"

Annabeth gives him a puzzled look. "You feeling alright over there?" She pauses, glancing him over slowly. "You're a little red. I could get Coach if—"

Percy thinks he should probably answer that like any other sane human, or maybe explain that he's always been an easy blusher, but instead he just mutters out an "'M fine" and jogs ahead. Annabeth only takes a few seconds to catch up.

;;

"How do you feel about Ritz and strawberry cream cheese?" is how Annabeth greets him that Saturday. Percy, despite his usual balance while running, trips and only just manages to steady himself. "Well, don't die before I can hear your answer," she teases, clearly entertained by his sudden lack of grace.

"Just surprised me," he says. "Um, Ritz are fine, I guess? A little plain. And I always have to drink something with them. I've never actually had strawberry cream cheese."

Annabeth sighs, like he's just told her she won't get Christmas this year. "You poor lost soul," she says under her breath. "Ritz _and _strawberry cream cheese is the best combination in the world. I'm going to make you try it today."

"I doubt they sell that at the cafe," Percy comments. "What a freakish combination. Whose idea was it to try that?"

She scoffs, elbowing him in the side none too gently. "It was mine. Don't be rude—I didn't mock your weird love affair with blue jellybeans."

"That's because blue jellybeans are actually reasonable," Percy returns, smiling to himself. Running time has slowly become Annabeth time, as it turns out. Percy's not sure if he's complaining anymore. "Where am I going to try this best combination in the world?"

"My house," Annabeth says, like he should have gathered that himself. The tree they raced at is just a few feet ahead, and he already knows what she's going to say before she even says it. "Race?"

"Like always," he answers, and they're running before Annabeth has a chance to reply.

;;

Percy feels bad for walking on Annabeth's carpet in his current state. He's sweaty, wearing dirty socks, and there might be a twig in his hair after a brief scuffle with Annabeth. She wasn't lying when she told him to keep his head up; he looked down for a second and got half a tree lodged in his hair.

"Are you sure your parents aren't home?" Percy asks, peeking around every corner. He has this image of a taller, scarier version of Annabeth walking in and asking why a homeless boy is in her house. Everything is very _white _and immaculate here. Percy's scared to breathe.

Annabeth leans around a corner and stares at him expectantly. "Are you going to come in the kitchen? Also, you have leaves in your hair."

Percy would like to point out that the leaves in his hair are very much Annabeth's fault for shoving him, but she disappears around the corner before he can say so. He goes to the kitchen. At least this room has tile, though it's no less pristine than what he's seen of the rest of her house. "Am I allowed to be here?"

Annabeth shrugs. "Who cares?" she asks, popping a Ritz cracker in her mouth. "Mom went shopping, and when she goes, she stays gone all day. Besides, even if she came home, we're just eating Ritz crackers with cream cheese."

She's talking with her mouth full. Percy should be appalled at her lack of manners, but he's rather endeared. "I feel bad for stepping on your floor," he admits after a while. Annabeth's setting up two plates of crackers.

"I feel bad for those leaves in your hair, which _are _still there, by the way," she replies drily. "It's a floor, it's made to be stepped on."

He almost argues that the floor has feelings too, but then he remembers that the floor probably doesn't. "Bathroom?"

Annabeth gestures vaguely to her left, so Percy walks that way. He's tiptoeing and being careful not to touch anything. He's pretty certain Annabeth's laughing at him behind his back.

There are, in fact, leaves in his hair. Two of them. Even more distressing, Percy looks like he hasn't showered in a week. He's betting on Annabeth's claim that her mom won't be home until late, because he doesn't think he'd make the best impression, meeting a parent like this.

Annabeth's scooping up strawberry cream cheese on a Ritz cracker when he walks back in. She appraises him while she chews. "You're sweaty."

"Half-hour runs tend to do that." Annabeth's sweaty, too, but she pulls it off better than he does, all half-flushed cheeks and messy curls up in a ponytail. He has a feeling he looks more like he was hit by a tree branch—which, to be fair, actually happened. She prepares a cracker for him and hands it over. "Go on. Experience happiness."

Percy eats the cracker, Annabeth staring at him half-eager and half-smug.

"Jesus," Percy says as his answer. Strawberry cream cheese might be his one true love. "I take the freakish comment back."

She hands him a white, ceramic plate with a pile of crackers, smile in place. "I told you so."

;;

On Monday, Annabeth brings Ritz and a tub of strawberry cream cheese. It's still cold. She rations him half the sleeve of crackers and puts the cream cheese between them.

"I think it's time you know that it's no longer possible for you to join track team," Annabeth tells him. "You've missed your window."

"Next year," Percy promises, trying to pile as much cream cheese as he can on one cracker. Annabeth slaps his wrist as a reprimand, but doesn't stop him from eating it. "If I still go here, anyways. I move a lot."

Annabeth looks like she might frown, but it passes. "That sucks. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, obviously. It's, um—my mom needs change sometimes, I guess?" Percy doesn't usually talk about it, but he feels like Annabeth might care to know. "She's been through a lot."

She watches him quietly, but not expectantly. "From what I hear, she's still 'the best person in the world.'"

Percy smiles at his own words. The truth is, his mom's greatness comes from knowing people far, far worse and promising to never be like them. "Yeah, she is."

"And you're a good son, you know," Annabeth adds, perhaps the most sincere he's ever seen her. "From what you've told me, you never fight her when she decides to move. That makes you a good person too."

He shrugs. "I think a lot of people are good people. It's whatever."

She knocks their shoulders together, and it's a little stilted and weird but leaves him warm and smiling regardless. "Some people are better people."

"Some," he allows.

Annabeth eats another cracker and changes the subject to the history test next week. Percy tries not to watch her lips while she talks.

;;

"Did you," Percy starts, writing his name on the corner of Annabeth's worksheet, "ever consider the irony of your last name?"

Annabeth looks up at him darkly. "Don't you dare—"

"_Because_," he continues, speaking over her, "I've been thinking about it for the past five minutes. And it's really funny. _Chase_. Like running. You run when you're chasing someone."

"The serial killer from _Scream _didn't," Annabeth replies boredly.

"_Chase_, Annabeth. This is funny."

"It might be," she says, "if I hadn't heard it at every track meet for the past five years. Stop writing your name on my paper."

Percy hums like he's considering it. "I'm good. And very bored."

"I can tell." She bats his hand away, albeit gently, continuing her math problem. "You get annoying when you're bored."

Well, Annabeth gets a lot cuter when she's concentrating, but there's not a chance in hell he'll be sharing that thought. "You should entertain me."

She huffs, circling her final answer. "Entertain yourself."

"I tried to do that, but you told me to stop," he reminds her, tilting his head to the side. She ignores him, flipping to the next page. Percy's admittedly worried. She's advanced, enrolled in the math class he'll be in next year, and that looks like a lot more problems than he'll feel like doing. "Annabeth."

"Percy."

"I think we should do something, right now," Percy says, slapping his hand on the table like it's his very own gavel. He starts packing up his things. The decision has been made. "Let's go on an adventure."

Annabeth pauses, pencil poised over her paper, eyes cautious and, if Percy's reading her correctly, excited. "What do you have in mind?"

;;

Percy walks down aisle seven, scoping out the chip varieties. He's impressed. The selection isn't bad, for a family-owned grocery store in a small town.

"When you said adventure, I was thinking more along the lines of unexplored back road or a clearing in the woods," Annabeth says, backpack pulled over her shoulder.

"Well, your expectations were much too high," Percy informs her, reaching for a bag of Doritos. "How do you feel about these?"

"We're in a grocery store."

Percy frowns at Annabeth. "I thought you would have noticed that when we walked in, maybe?"

She stares at him urgently, like he's missing the point. "Percy. You brought me to a grocery store."

"You didn't tell me no," he retorts, making sure he has his wallet before he pulls the chips off the shelf. Annabeth walks after him, pausing beside him when he stops to look at dessert mixes. "Are you more of a brownie person? Cake? Muffins? Pie?"

Annabeth blinks at him. "You took me to a grocery store," she repeats, shaking her head. "Who are you?"

"I'm Percy Jackson, please answer my question," he's already reaching for the brownies. He has a feeling.

"Brownies."

Percy smiles, plucking up a box. "Great. Anything else you want or can we be on our way?" Annabeth just gestures for him to lead the way, so he does.

"I can't believe I thought you were actually going to take me on an adventure," Annabeth says, once they're walking down Main Street. "Honestly, I should have known better. I wrongly thought you were a spontaneous guy; you know, last minute trips to Paris or something."

"Paris?" Percy asks, raising an eyebrow. "Annabeth, I'm a seventeen-year-old, jobless man living with his mother. I'm thinking Paris is a little unreasonable."

"Well, either set your expectations high or don't set them at all," Annabeth mutters, crossing her arms.

Percy's getting an annoyed vibe from her, but he decides to pretend like he doesn't notice, hoping she'll be less irritated by the time they reach his house. "I didn't _just _take you to the grocery store," he adds, a few minutes later. "We're going to my house, too. And then we're going to make brownies. And you're going to watch a movie with me. And you'll probably meet my mom."

Annabeth lifts both her eyebrows. "And this was your plan from the start?"

"You really think I would take a girl to a grocery store just to buy things she likes and then not invite her over?" He scoffs because _honestly_, he may be a little oblivious and less experienced than some, but his mother raised him right. He might even be a little offended at her assumption. "I know how to treat a lady, Annabeth."

She doesn't answer, looking away from him. Percy needs that aggravation to go away, stat.

"I'll join track team if you stop being moody," he sing-songs, swaying into her shoulder.

Annabeth turns to him, scowl in place, arms falling and her fists clenching. Percy's certain she's about to deck him, but she only says "I'm not _moody_, Percy."

"Hey, I didn't mean—"

"And you honestly think I care about _track team_anymore? Try-outs were over two weeks after the first time I asked you."

Percy didn't know that, but he decides not to voice it. Annabeth looks nearly murderous. "Annabeth," he says slowly, and hopefully soothingly. "You know I didn't mean anything by it. I was just trying to get you to smile, or something."

She still looks like she might punch him, but her face softens the smallest bit, showing that she believes him. "Yeah, I… Yeah."

It's probably the first time he's heard her be anything less than eloquent while speaking, but he doesn't mention it. "Are you alright? We don't have to go to my house if you don't want to, I just thought it would be a nice break from studying."

Annabeth gives a thin-lipped smile, something obviously still bothering her. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry about me."

"I have to," Percy replies, rolling his eyes. "You're my friend and all that."

"Oh, right," Annabeth says, rolling her own eyes. "I forgot about that. Damn it."

He laughs, and she does, too. Tossing his arm over his shoulder, Percy leads her down the sidewalk towards his house. "What kind of movies do you like?"

"Documentaries."

"Movies, Annabeth. Not things that put you to sleep."

She pushes her elbow into his ribs. It doesn't hurt him, but it does make him feel warm all over. "Documentaries are interesting, if you find the right ones."

"I'm about to doze off just talking about them," Percy jokes, but he squeezes her shoulder to show that he doesn't really mean it. "I'm feeling like Ferris Bueller's Day Off. How are you feeling?"

"I can't think past brownies," Annabeth admits. "I'll make the brownies and then we'll discuss movies."

Percy starts to nod, then he shoots her a confused look, turning her onto his street. "What makes you think you'll be making the brownies? I'm an excellent baker."

"I'm sure you are," Annabeth responds drily.

Alright, 'excellent' might an exaggeration, but he can work off a recipe. Besides, Annabeth is _his _guest, it's his duty to feed her and keep her from doing any labor around the house. "We'll make them together." Percy's always been talented at negotiation.

Annabeth looks skeptical, but she nods.

;;

"Percy."

"I know."

"_Percy_."

"Annabeth, I know."

He glances around the room; at the streaks of brownie mix that are drying on the cabinets and counters, not to mention the rogue egg shell on the floor. He's not sure how that got there.

Annabeth has brownie mix above her eyebrow, too, scowling at him like he's stolen her favorite toy on the playground. She looks young, winsome curls having fallen from her ponytail in all the commotion. Percy is impossibly endeared, though it's probably bad timing.

"Did you know you have to turn the beater _off _before you remove it from the bowl?"

Percy pauses, then nods. "I learned that a few seconds ago."

He's terrified that Annabeth'll take the neatest kitchen appliance and beat him over the head with it, or, even worse, leave his house, but all she does is shake her head. "Start cleaning. I'll finish the brownies."

Percy nods. A good plan. Annabeth's good at making plans.

After he's rescued the egg shell from being crushed further and cleaned most of the brownie mix off the cabinets and counters, he offers to put the brownies in the oven (pointlessly, because Annabeth can surely handle that herself) and she lets him. Annabeth wets a paper towel and cleans off her face, smiling to herself like there's a string of jokes that only she can hear. "What?" Percy asks, closing the oven.

"I knew you were horrible in the kitchen" is all Annabeth says before she leaves the room. Percy, as per usual, follows.

"I'm not _horrible,_" Percy defends himself, sinking down on the couch beside her. "I can make sandwiches. And brownies, usually, but Mom does the mixing. It looked so easy when she did it."

Annabeth grins at his childish whining, rolling her eyes. "Next time we'll wear ponchos."

Percy scowls at her. When Annabeth turns her attention to her phone it melts into a stupid smile, and Percy thinks _next time_.

;;

"Come to my track meet this Thursday," Annabeth says, before she even slides down the lockers to sit by him. Percy looks up at her with wide eyes and nearly half a sandwich in his mouth. "I promise it won't be horrible! Just—this sounds so stupid—nobody ever comes to them for me, and I know you like track, and I think you'd enjoy it, and the weather's supposed to be perfect…"

Annabeth goes on but Percy stops listening. She's wearing a necklace today; just a simple silver tennis shoe no bigger than the pad of his thumb. It's very Annabeth. He chews his sandwich, regretting having taken as huge of a bite as he had, since it's prohibiting him from cutting off her nervous yet collected chatter.

At some point, Annabeth stops talking and just stares at him. He gestures to his sandwich as if to say _my mouth's a little preoccupied, forgive me_.

"I just think you would enjoy it," Annabeth says finally, when Percy manages to swallow all of his food. "I mean, I know you said you didn't want to run for us this year, but you have to miss it, right? I can tell how much you love running."

"I like your necklace," Percy says quickly, before his mouth involuntarily goes off on a tangent about how running and racing practically exist on different planets. "It's nice."

She puts her hand over it, like she has to remind herself what she's even wearing. "Oh, this is so old. Cheesy, really. One of my friends bought it for me when I placed nationally."

Percy's eyebrows shoot up. "You placed nationally? And this is something you didn't care to share with me?"

Annabeth shrugs, plucking his sandwich right out of his hand and taking a bite before passing it back. Percy might be disgusted with anyone else—plus, he's not usually all that charitable with his food—but this is Annabeth. He figures she's an exception to everything. "It was two years ago. Not that big of a deal."

Percy kicks her calf, staring moodily at his sandwich and then at her. "Don't be all… _whatever_about it. That's a big deal and you know it."

Annabeth pauses, tilting her head to the side. "You're right. It was a big deal. Pretty awesome of me, actually." He smiles at that, since that's the Annabeth he knows; not one who tries to brush off praise like she's suddenly become shy and reserved. "I think a subject change is in order," Annabeth says breezily, pulling out her math notebook and flipping through it. She freezes when she reaches the page she wants, smoothing her hands over it before she looks up at him hesitantly. "You'll go, though? Please?"

Percy was sold the first time she asked him, but the _please _is a nice touch. He nods.

Annabeth nods back, cordial and calm as ever. "Thanks." She passes him the chips that she brought along, and if anyone's going to be stealing his food, Percy's glad it's Annabeth. She likes balance, doesn't like owing people anything, and if she takes a bite of his sandwich she'll compensate in some other way. He likes that about her, too; admires how she refuses to leave one side of the scale dipping down further than the other. Come to think of it, he likes a lot of things about Annabeth.

Before he can head down that mildly frightening road, he immerses himself in attempting to read her math notes over her shoulder. That, too, proves to be a bad idea when he finds himself able to smell Annabeth's hair at his proximity, which is entirely too close and entirely too overwhelming for him. Percy may be a strong runner, but he's a weakling when it comes to the people he likes.

He stares at the set of lockers opposite the one they're leaning up against. Percy clenches his jaw when Annabeth's arm presses against his as she turns the page of her notes; tucks a smile into his shoulder when she holds her hand out for his sandwich without even looking up; lets himself feel warm when she looks at him gratefully upon returning it.

She focuses on her notes with an assiduity Percy couldn't possibly dream of, and he lets his heart pick up the pace while he watches her study. It's not smart, not logical, and definitely not what he should be doing, but it seems he's not been all that intelligent where Annabeth's involved, at least not lately.

;;

Annabeth's definition of perfect weather is far different from Percy's.

It's hot, and with Annabeth's Californian roots, perhaps she's lost the ability to feel heat, but Percy still can. And it's hot—stifling, humid, blistering. He stocks up on water bottles from the vending machine behind the bleachers and prepares himself for perhaps the sweatiest day of his existence.

Annabeth beams up at him once she notices him in the stands, waving like he's her favorite celebrity or something, and that makes it all worth it.

;;

He meets Annabeth by their tent after she's done racing. He's probably not even supposed to be over here, but nobody gives him a second look, and Percy doesn't think he'd really care all that much if they did.

She's leaning up against one of the feeble poles holding up the tent when he walks up behind her, talking to one of her teammates who has a far too serious expression on his face, considering how wonderfully Annabeth just did.

Once he's right behind her, the guy in front of her trails off with a frown. "You aren't supposed to be over here."

Percy rolls his eyes, good-naturedly of course, and shrugs. Annabeth turns like she already knows who it was—probably had a feeling Percy would be breaking the rules from the start—and hugs his neck. "Hey, you came!"

"You saw me earlier," Percy reminds her, rubbing her back. His only reassurance is that Annabeth is just as overheated as he is. "You did great."

"We'll see," Annabeth answers, pulling back. For a brief, confusing, and all the same wonderful moment, he thinks Annabeth'll kiss him—which, isn't necessary, he just came to her _track meet_, but it would have been appreciated and enjoyed.

Instead, she smiles at him before turning back to her teammate. "This is Percy."

The guy smiles, bright and genuine, holding out a hand for him to shake. "Oh, _Percy_."

Percy raises his eyebrows at the guy's tone, but he nods. "Yeah, all me. How are you feeling? Saw you stumble out there."

The guy shrugs, pursing his lips like he's annoyed. "I'm alright. Wishing I wouldn't have stumbled, though. Oh, and I'm Jason, by the way."

Percy smiles at him kindly. He sees a little bit of himself in the set to Jason's shoulders; the disappointment at his own fumble in his eyes. "It's nice to meet you. And, seriously, don't worry about it. You redeemed yourself pretty quickly." Percy pats his shoulder firmly; he'd always refused to let his teammates feel disheartened after a bad run. "I don't think you cost them too much time, and, besides, stumbles happen. I fell at regionals last year, if it helps."

Jason's mouth twists up at that, like he's caught between a smile and a frown. "That's embarrassing."

Percy hums, chuckling. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"I'll talk to you later, Annabeth," the guy says abruptly, saluting Percy. "Nice meeting you."

Once he's left, Annabeth turns back to Percy. "That was nice of you to comfort him," she mentions, rolling her shoulders.

He shrugs. "Just runner's courtesy, really. Everyone likes comfort after a not-so-great race."

"But not just anyone gives it. It was nice of you," she repeats, patting his upper arm. If Percy weren't already a hundred degrees, it might have made him feel warm.

"Seeing you in action was crazy," Percy says, changing the topic. "I'm convinced you're, like, half-machine, or something."

Annabeth laughs at that, though he's positive it's not the first time she's heard it. "Nope, all human." She tilts her head to the left and then to the right, stretching out some of the tension in her muscles. Percy remembers that feeling. "Thanks for coming. It means a lot."

Percy would like to know whether or not he's blushing, but his whole body's far too hot to really tell. "It's not a problem. I would have come to all of them, if you'd asked."

Annabeth smiles at him; soft and gentle and far from her usual challenging smirk. "Thank you."

He doesn't intentionally press his hand against hers, but he basks in the feeling when it happens. "Anything for you," Percy answers quickly, making sure that it doesn't sound half as genuine as it is. "Just, next time, let me know when it's going to be hell on earth so I won't wear black?"

She tips her head back and laughs. Percy's heart beats faster than those of the people sprinting on the track.

;;

So, Percy thinks, Annabeth's pretty.

He's lying on his bed, back against his comforter and arms folded underneath his head. Annabeth's pretty, and he likes her. As more than a companion while he runs, as more than an unofficial tutor, and as more than a friend. Admitting all of this is the easy part.

Percy considers telling her. The thought makes him nauseous.

Then he considers _not _telling her; thinks about months of pining and trying to play it cool, like Annabeth isn't more or less everything he's ever wanted in a significant other. That makes him even _more _nauseous.

He rolls over, buries his face between two pillows, and lets out a long, deep-seated, thoroughly exhausted sigh, deciding he'll treat this realization the same as he treats that spider that's made a home just outside his window: ignore it and hope it goes away.

;;

Two days later, when Percy opens his window to get some fresh air, said spider hops right on his hand and crawls quickly up his arm. Percy considers it an omen.

;;

"I like your shirt," Annabeth says, jogging alongside him. It's Saturday, they're running their usual path, and Annabeth's too pretty for him to even look at, for the most part. "It makes your eyes look really green."

Percy wants to trip himself; wants to fall face-first on this concrete and hopefully get a concussion so he can pretend he never heard those words leave her mouth. Sadly, he values his life too much. "Uh, thanks." He turns his head to send her a quick smile, which Annabeth doesn't hesitate to return. _Christ._

"Are we racing?" Annabeth says this like she already knows the answer, and Percy's sure that she does. Asking is nothing but a formality anymore; it's more of an opportunity for banter or some sarcastic remark from Percy.

"As always," he replies today, since his mind can't seem to come up with anything else a little less heartfelt. "I'll even let you win."

Annabeth huffs out a laugh at that, smiling brightly when she meets his eyes. "Is that what you've been doing all of this time? Letting me win?"

Percy nods the best that he can mid-jog. "I'm a gentleman."

"No, you're a sore loser," Annabeth retorts, sticking out her tongue at him while she runs ahead. Percy doesn't even pick up his pace, knowing that Annabeth'll wait for him as soon as she reaches the tree. "Hey, Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"If you can actually beat me, I'll grant you one wish," she calls over her shoulder, apparently having no intention of slowing down or letting him catch up. He sprints until he's by her side, interested at the proposition. "Let's see if you win when you have actual motivation."

"And it can be anything?" His thoughts betray him immediately, rushing to a request of a kiss. "Cheeseburgers included?"

"Anything," Annabeth affirms. "From my first born to a blade of grass."

Percy's pretty sure a kiss is on that spectrum, but he's not so sure he's confident enough to ask for it. Sure, he's seen Annabeth's smiles that she sends his way, and sure he's felt the way she presses their elbows together at lunch. He's seen affectionate grins and returned hugs tighter than the ones he gives his mom, but, disappointingly, he has yet to draw any conclusion about these things.

Percy hasn't even decided what he wants as his wish, but he still runs as fast as he can once they reach the tree.

Annabeth gives a great effort, she really does, but nothing can compare to Percy when he's determined. He wins, running a few feet past the end of the bridge due to some difficulty stopping after building so much momentum.

"Well?" Annabeth calls from where she's leaning back against the bridge railing, catching her breath. "What did you want so bad that made you run like that?"

He chooses not to answer that, lightly jogging back to the bridge. "Nothing. Just wanted to win for once. You know I don't like competitions, but my ego does."

She cracks a smile at that, looking up at him with nothing short of admiration. "Well, what do you want?"

Percy thinks for a few seconds, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes like he's really choosing carefully, but when his mind just keeps chanting _I'd like to kiss you_, he makes a smart choice. "Can I collect later?"

Annabeth gives her assent, smile not dropping for a minute. "How do you feel about strawberry cream cheese and Ritz crackers?"

"I feel like that's a great idea." Percy swings his arms a little, hearing his left joint pop. "I also feel like I don't want to walk in your home this dirty again. Everything is very… _clean _there."

She rolls her eyes at him, but doesn't oppose his statement. "Go home and shower, then. Come over when you're clean."

"Are we still studying? I really don't get this history chapter."

"You haven't gotten any of them," Annabeth reminds him, not unkindly, standing up straight rather than leaning against the railing. "Of course we're studying, idiot."

Percy's found out, over the past few months, that he's quite partial to fond name-calling. Annabeth's practically the queen of it. "Cool."

They both go quiet, Percy standing about a foot away but still staring at her without blinking. He almost can't help it, the way his eyes are drawn to her like flies to a light and magnets to, well… other magnets. Percy was never a poet. He clears his throat. "Uh, so… I'll see you?"

Annabeth looks amused. "Assuming you'll be heading to my house, I sure hope so."

"Okay," Percy says, nodding seriously even if he picks up on Annabeth's sarcastic tone. "Good."

He doesn't move, and neither does Annabeth. He knows he should offer up a smile and be on his way, but there's something locking him in place—a feeling he can't really place, like maybe there's something else he wants to say, or something else he expects her to say. Percy couldn't count on both his hands and feet the times he's spaced out in Annabeth's presence, thinking too much about how small her hands are and how his would basically engulf hers if he were to ever hold her hand, or staring at the barely visible freckles beneath her eyes, or wondering what it would be like to twirl a curl of hers around one of his fingers. Being around Annabeth is a danger to Percy's health. She's giving him high blood pressure.

"You know," Annabeth says, after god knows how long, "for us to meet up again, we have to leave first."

Percy wants to say something back—something that'll make her like him, or make her laugh or smile. Instead, he turns on his heel and goes home, forgetting to answer.

;;

He doesn't panic until he's out of the shower and positioned before his closet. Percy has exactly _no _acceptable shirts that are clean enough to wear to Annabeth's house, where he'll be seeing _Annabeth _and potentially her parents. He needs to look sharp; like he's not just some brainless teenage boy who wears ratty, old t-shirts everyday. Even if he is that boy.

He has half a mind to text Annabeth and ask her to tell him what to wear, but he decides that would make it too obvious that he's dressing to impress. Which is apparently what he's doing, because he wants Annabeth to consider him a good-looking individual—while still maintaining a casual, effortless outfit choice.

Percy buries his face in his hands and groans. _This _is why he doesn't usually let himself build enough of a relationship that he ends up liking someone. He turns into a hysterical _fool_that worries over the color of his shirt.

With a resigned sigh, Percy covers his eyes with one hand and reaches into his closet with the other. He tugs on the first shirt his fingers brush.

It's the one he wore on the first day of school, still no less green or obnoxious but… Annabeth complimented his eyes when he was wearing a green shirt earlier. Of course, that shirt had been more of a low-key green, but Percy rocks lime green. Kind of.

Refusing to give himself _hives _with all the anxiety he's forcing on himself, Percy pulls the shirt over his head. "It's just Annabeth," he reminds himself, while he's trying to make his hair at least half-presentable in the mirror. "Just Annabeth. Nothing to—"

His phone starts vibrating violently from where it sits on his dresser. He trips over a pair of shoes while he makes his way over to it. "Hello?"

He's a little breathless, having almost lost his life a few seconds earlier. "Percy?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Annabeth. What's up?"

"Nothing, I just got bored waiting on you. How long does it take guys to shower? I'm already out, _and_I've started my homework."

"It wasn't a race," he grumbles, doubling back to pull on the shoes he tripped over.

"Oh, Percy, everything's a race with me," Annabeth replies, and Percy freezes mid-tie.

Annabeth is definitely, undoubtedly, certainly, absolutely, clearly, positively, undeniably flirting with him. Percy's non-existent asthma is acting up. He swallows, but the dryness to his throat remains. "Is it now?"

He's flirting back. Thank god this is over the phone, Percy thinks, because he's no less flushed than he typically is after running a mile.

Annabeth doesn't answer his question, but he can hear the smile in her reply. "Hurry up, you simpleton, or I'll eat all of the strawberry cream cheese myself."

She hangs up before he can get a word in edgewise. Percy lets his phone fall to the floor (_Otterbox, don't fail me now_, he thinks idly) and ties his shoes with a new fervor. If everything's a race with Annabeth, Percy intends to win at least a few more.

;;

Percy goes to Annabeth's next track meet. And the one after that, too, even if it's a fair distance away from home and he has to text his mom every half hour to ensure her of his safety. Annabeth remains a constant every day at lunch and every Saturday afternoon, while they run and finish up homework together.

It's been four months now; four months since he promised himself to steer clear of the intimidating blonde, and ended up becoming close friends with her instead. Four months since Annabeth Chase challenged him to a race without even knowing his name. Four months that he thought would be full of lunches spent alone, long school days, and dull weekends. Four months that ended up being full of races with Annabeth, completed and correct homework, and more than a few long, affectionate looks sent her way. By Percy, of course.

(And it's not like Annabeth hasn't caught him a time or two—because she _definitely _has, which taught Percy to be a little more stealthy with his longing glances—but she has graciously chosen not to mention them, thus far.)

"Hey," Annabeth greets him, the very second he walks through the gym doors. He blinks a little at her abrupt appearance (usually, it takes her a few seconds to wander over to him) but greets her back nonetheless. "I need a favor."

Percy, without even considering how outrageous the favor might be, nods. "Sure, anything. What's up?"

The corner of her lips turns up, but she looks down before he can see it transform into the wide grin it was surely becoming. "I need a ride home."

He gives her a confused look, eyebrows pulling together. "Of course. You didn't even have to ask, honestly. Could have just popped up in my backseat. I don't think I would have even questioned it."

"A rogue Annabeth appears," she drawls, leaning up against the wall. Percy moves from the doors, too, not all that fond of being hit with heavy metal by ruthless high schoolers who don't tend to glance before pushing a door open. "Observe the Annabeth in her natural habitat."

He snorts, which he might be embarrassed about with anyone else, but Annabeth's seen him drenched in sweat with tree leaves in his hair. "The Annabeth's natural habitat is Percy's car?"

Annabeth considers this. To be fair, she's never _been _in his car; she's only seen it. "The Annabeth's natural habitat is where the Percy is," she decides.

Percy will not blush at that. He refuses.

Blush as he might not, he does smile widely and blurt out, "Aww!" Which—honestly, he would have preferred blushing over that. Now, he just looks like an idiot (not that Annabeth hasn't told him as much on a million occasions). He hates the lack of communication between his brain and mouth. Annabeth lifts one eyebrow, looking more amused than she ever has. "I mean. Thanks. For that. It was nice?"

She looks about three seconds from cracking a joke and furthering his mortification, but she seems to rethink it. "You're welcome. I meant it, you know."

Percy swallows, leaning against the wall beside her. Obviously, it's to make sure he's not in anyone's way. Not because he wants to be a little closer to her, maybe. "Meant what?"

Annabeth elbows him. Percy's convinced that it's one of her favorite past times. "Nothing. Just that I'm comfortable around you, is all. And I'm around you more often than not. We're a package deal. Cut from the same cloth. Thick as thieves. Best friends. Two peas in a pod—"

Percy laughs, effectively cutting her off. "I get the gist."

Annabeth smiles—softly, prettily, and in a way that nearly causes Percy to collapse. "Alright."

"Alright," Percy repeats, smiling a little himself. "Now, come on. I challenge you to a game of frisbee."

;;

That Thursday turns out to be one of the longest school days of Percy's life, thanks to three tests in his last three class periods and a pile of homework that'll take him five hours at the very least to complete. He busies himself with scowling and mentally complaining about how inconsiderate the teachers are, planning tests on the same days and assigning loads of homework when, believe it or not, he does have other classes. Honestly, Percy wants to become a teacher himself if only to set the system straight, giving a handful of kids the break they deserve.

He's contemplating which subject he would prefer to teach (he's leaning towards history, because English is an _absolute _no and math is less than favorable) when he remembers that Annabeth asked him for a ride home.

Groaning under his breath, Percy turns on his heel and prepares to walk right back inside the place he's been waiting all day to escape from. He doesn't make it three steps before his phone rings.

"Hey, Annabeth, where can I find you?" he greets, heading towards the school again.

"Don't walk any further," Annabeth advises. "I'm actually at your car already, watching you walk away."

Percy looks over his shoulder, seeing Annabeth casually leaning up against his car. She waves. He returns the gesture. "Hi. How was your day?" he questions, making his way towards her.

"It was alright," Annabeth replies. Her hair is up in what looks like a messy bun (though Percy's knowledge about hairstyles is extremely limited) and she's smiling at him softly. She cocks her head to the side, smile melting into something half-smug and half-affectionate. "Why are you blushing?"

Percy nearly drops his phone in his haste to cover his cheeks with both hands, but he just barely manages to pin the device between his shoulder and his ear. "I am not," he states firmly, but he's not so sure. "It's hot out here."

"Your should tie your shoes," Annabeth adds, and Percy glances down to see one white lace pinned beneath his other foot. If he wasn't blushing before, there's high probability that he is now.

He's noticed something recently. Annabeth pays close attention, somehow managing to perceive and eliminate every issue that could pose as a hazard to him. She takes care of him, is the thing, and it shouldn't make Percy feel as warm as he does. She's just a friend looking out for another friend, making sure he doesn't brain himself on the concrete. Honestly. It's nothing. (Probably.)

"Thanks," he says, but it sounds more like a grunt. Percy keeps his eyes on his feet while he takes the last few steps towards her, depositing his phone in her hand while he kneels down to tie his shoe.

"Why is your homescreen _Nemo_?"

Percy finishes tying the shoelace gone awry, but he doesn't stand up. Just having ten—even _five_—minutes where he didn't embarrass himself in front of Annabeth would be a miracle. "Nemo's cool," he responds, a little defensive. If Annabeth doesn't like _Nemo_, he might have to break this off while they're in the early stages.

"Nemo is cool," Annabeth agrees easily, and Percy visibly relaxes. He wasn't all that ready to exile Annabeth and leave her stranded at the school, anyways. "But I'm still going to change it."

Standing up more quickly than he has in a while, Percy plucks his phone out of her hand with a small frown. "Nemo is an _inspiration_, Annabeth. A role model for all."

She scoffs, taking the phone back. Percy doesn't put up a fight, but it seems he doesn't have the heart (or guts) to have any brand of an altercation with Annabeth. After all, she's the kind of girl you want to be on your side, not the kind of girl you want to be in the ring with. "Well, I'm an inspiration, too," she replies, mock-haughtily. "Come on. Take a selfie with me."

"It's not a selfie if it's two people," Percy mutters under his breath.

"My, you're mouthy today," Annabeth says mildly, tugging on his wrist until he's standing beside her. "One picture. One chance."

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think? I mean, it's a picture, not Doomsday."

She turns, only to narrow her eyes at him and say "shut up" before facing the camera again and pasting a smile on her face. Percy should probably do the same, but Annabeth's pretty—there's a freckle near the corner of her eye, and he vows to himself that, if ever given the chance, he will kiss said freckle. Pen that down on his bucket list.

"Percy! You aren't even looking at the camera." She scowls down at the screen, digging her elbow into his upper arm.

He starts and stammers out a response, not wanting to admit that he was distracted by a freckle. That would be a whole new level of weird. "Let's just take another."

Annabeth gives a world-weary sigh, shaking her head at him. "Honestly. What part of 'one picture, one chance' didn't you get?"

Percy, childishly, wants to place the blame on her. After all, he would have been looking at the camera like any other sane human if she weren't so _pretty_. It's not his fault at all. He leans over her shoulder to see the picture himself, just to gauge how awful it is (he's not opposed to a re-take, after all, and he wouldn't mind having a few pictures with Annabeth to prove to his old friends that she's a real person).

The picture isn't bad at all. He's still smiling, anyways, just at Annabeth. And not the camera. He looks about a moment away from kissing her, even to his own typically-oblivious eyes. Annabeth doesn't seem to notice while she sets it as his homescreen. "Hey, wait, why not a re-take?"

Annabeth glances at him briefly before shrugging. "Maybe it's not that bad," she says lightly. "Now drive me home, you dullard."

Percy doesn't have a clue where she gets all of these invectives from, but he learned long ago that it's just how Annabeth expresses her few and far between fits of affection. He takes it in stride, drives her home, and walks her to the door like a gentleman. Annabeth even invites him in for Ritz and strawberry cream cheese for his troubles, and Percy (somehow, blessedly) makes it through the rest of the day without thinking of her in _that _way.

It's all fine and dandy until he comes home, drops his backpack, and makes a beeline for the kitchen. "Hi, Mom, what's for dinner?"

"Nice to see you, too," Sally answers amiably. "We're having country fried steak. What's got you so happy?"

Percy scowls. He is not ' _so_happy.' There is a normal, balanced, and common amount of joy in him currently. "I'm not." He drags out the word a little, ends up making it sound more like a question.

His mother reassess him. "You're home late," she comments lightly.

He shrugs. "Just at Annabeth's. This smells so good," Percy adds, hovering over the stove. He's feeling famished, despite the whole sleeve of Ritz he and Annabeth finished off. That looks like green beans on the back burner. Percy is so on board with green beans.

"Oh, _Annabeth's_. I see."

Percy doesn't like her tone, so he decides to ignore it. "Hey, speaking of Annabeth, look at this." He digs his phone out of his pocket, nearly dislodging his wallet in the process, and unlocks his phone. "We took a picture."

His mother hums, smiling down at it. "That's cute," she tells him, warmly, before turning back to the stovetop to stir what looks like gravy. "Any new… _developments_I should hear about?"

Percy frowns at her. He doesn't care much for that tone, either, since it sounds like his mom is aware of something he isn't. His mom has that tone a lot. She's a very educated woman. "Uh, not particularly."

"I'm your mother," she tries again. "You can tell me anything."

"I know that," Percy says, slowly, as he finally catches on. "Me and Annabeth aren't—you know. I would have told you." His face feels hot. He wonders if his mother's about to re-do the sex talk, which is the absolute _last _thing he wants right now. Percy would like to eat before his appetite's ruined.

Sally gives him a maternal grin. "I figured you would, but you can't blame your mom for hoping." She turns off a few burners, wordlessly gesturing for him to get their two plates out. "I see how happy you are with her, and—"

"Friends," Percy reminds her, not unkindly. "We are friends."

"Friends don't look at each other like that, if you ask me—"

"_Friends_," Percy says, and he's nearly squeaking at this point, throat going dry at the mortification he's being forced to experience, "can look at each other in many ways."

Sally holds up her hands as symbol of defeat. "I'm done, don't be embarrassed. Just being a mom—"

"I'm not _embarrassed_," he hisses, lying through his teeth.

Sally says "Fine, fine," but looks like she's biting back a smile. If Percy weren't so hungry, he'd make his exit right about now. She makes him a plate, but hands it over with a sincere look. "I'm happy you're happy here, Percy. I know it takes a lot out of you to move so much. I hate pulling you away from your friends," she continues, apologetically, like Percy hasn't heard the same speech a million times.

He shrugs, waving her off. "Didn't like the last school anyways." He understands his mother; knows that sometimes she just needs a change of scenery or a new town to walk through—where people don't know of her or her past. Going through a fairly public divorce, in Percy's opinion, isn't a bad reason to move towns. Plus, his mom's never been all that fond of staying in one place.

It's just a shame that Percy's a homebody—the guy who gets attached to things he's only seen once in his life; the one who manages to befriend strangers at the grocery store and feels sad when he's told it's time to leave. He figures, for now, the least he can do is follow his mom from place to place and keep her company while she learns to stay put in one city. He'll worry about himself once mom's comfortable and settled down, hopefully with a guy who'll treat her a lot better than the last.

Percy falls into bed that night with a full stomach and light shoulders, clicking on his conversation with Annabeth in his messages. He starts typing out a question (_did you need a ride to school tomorrow?_) when he notices that the picture— _their_picture—was sent to Annabeth's phone. And not by him.

Which means, despite Annabeth's complaints, she liked the picture enough to send it to herself. Percy bites at his bottom lip, sends the intended question, and considers the implications of Annabeth's actions.

_It's probably nothing_, he tells himself. _Just a picture of us together. Maybe she has her own friends to prove his existence to._It's not significant, or at least it shouldn't be, but the feeling that rises up in Percy's chest suggests otherwise.

Annabeth replies with a _That would be great, if possible!_and Percy rolls his eyes at her impeccable grammar, even over text. He locks his phone, fumbles for the charger, and hopes to god he manages to maintain whatever small portion of dignity he has left on the ride to school tomorrow.

;;

Annabeth brings him a thermos of coffee since he had to wake up twenty minutes earlier than usual, and greets him with a hug that lasts longer than usual. He doesn't look into it, not really, just chalks it up to her being in a good mood. "I hope you made my coffee right," he comments, though he would happily drink it if Annabeth gave it to him black without even a _granule _of sugar.

"It doesn't even taste like coffee," she replies, a little proud. "Drowned in cream and sugar."

She's the best. Percy could kiss her. "You're the best," he tells her, deciding to omit that last thought.

"I know."

And he doesn't smile—or, at least, he doesn't intend to, but Annabeth puts her elbow up on on the center console to rest against his. They get into a brief nudging fight, Percy trying to secure more space on what he considers _his _armrest, since his car doesn't have real ones, and Annabeth mostly retaliating against his gentle shoving.

Finally, with a loud huff that might be more of a laugh, Annabeth simple rests her arm on top of his. "You're so difficult. We couldn't _share _it, by any chance?"

Percy hums thoughtfully, doing a rolling stop when he reaches the red sign at the end of her road. Truth be told, he's enjoying how warm Annabeth's arm is, and he enjoys skin-on-skin contact as much as the next guy with a crush. "No, we can't, but this is fine."

Annabeth sighs, but doesn't sound all that annoyed. She leaves her arm atop his without a single hint of discomfort, and Percy can't help but think about how easy it would be to hold her hand. If he wanted to, of course. Which…

Annabeth's wearing a solid blue shirt, hair tied back neatly and warm thermos nestled against her stomach with her free hand. She's not smiling, but not frowning, either—just content and calm, relaxed in his presence.

So, right. He wants to hold Annabeth's hand. Percy can deal with this realization. He even lifts his hand a little, just to test the feeling out, barely brushing Annabeth's palm.

Before he can even muster up a sizable proportion of nerve, Annabeth's lifting her arm and using it to hold her thermos more securely. He's almost _sad_, for a moment—feeling like he's missed the last train that heads out for the day, feeling like he couldn't manage to scrawl out the last word before his candle burns out, leaving him drenched in darkness and more than a little lost. Stupidly and ridiculously, Percy had felt _close _for that moment. He can't imagine what sick, sick part of his brain is working overtime this morning to give him the illusion of hope.

"Oh, Jason texted me last night and said we have a pop quiz today in history," Annabeth mentions, after a sip of her coffee. "His mom apparently had a conversation with Mr. Jacobs after school."

Percy raises his eyebrows. "Is Jason's mom a teacher or something?"

Annabeth downs another sip, nodding. "Yeah, she teaches freshman only, though. She's really nice, though. I've been over for dinner a few times."

That makes him feel… _uncomfortable_. That's the best way to describe the little half-turn his stomach does and the way his shoulders tense on their own accord. He coughs. "Dinner?"

"Yeah, of course. Before you, Jason was my best friend. I mean, he's still my best friend," Annabeth continues, oblivious to Percy's sudden uneasiness. "But now there's you."

"Now there's me," Percy agrees, without much inflection. He scowls and rolls his shoulders to relieve some of the weird pressure.

Annabeth reaches over and rubs at his shoulder, making Percy jump at her touch. "Is your back alright? You keep shifting."

"I'm fine," Percy replies, trying not to sound short with her. "Really. Don't worry about it." He should leave it at that; should let them spend the rest of the drive in relative and comfortable silence, but he can't help himself. "So, is Jason how you get all of your inside information on tests and stuff?"

She shrugs, dislodging a few curls that had been resting on her shoulder. "I mean, I guess? I don't get test answers or anything. He just knows when surprise assemblies are, or fire drills. Occasionally pop quizzes."

"Oh," Percy responds, and his voice sounds a little faint. "That's cool."

"Are you sure your back is okay?" Annabeth asks, turning to him with a concerned dip in her eyebrows. "Like, really. You look a little pained."

"Probably just overworked myself during my run the other day," Percy says, gesturing vaguely. "No big deal."

His back doesn't hurt _at all_, it's more of a weird, unsettled turning in his gut.

It takes him a few more minutes, but he, with a start, recognizes the feeling. It's _jealousy_.

And, honestly, that's about the shittiest emotion his brain could decide to place upon him right now. Jason's her _friend_, clearly, since they've known each other for ages. Regardless, as much as Percy attempts to suppress the thoughts, he can't help but wonder if they've kissed, or dated at some point, or even glanced at each other with anything more than platonic thoughts in mind. Just the thought of any of those things makes him feel vaguely nauseous.

Irrational jealousy. Visions of holding Annabeth's hand. Staring at barely visible freckles. Wanting to _kiss _said freckles. Percy's _gone_, he is.

"Are you _sure _you're—?"

"Mhm," Percy cuts her off, a little strained. He fidgets with the air conditioning dial just to busy his free hand. Eventually, he rests it on the wheel. "All good. Peachy."

Annabeth sends him a bemused look, like she can hardly believe how strange he is. "If you say so, weirdo."

They leave it at that, thank god.

;;

When Percy wakes up to the ear-splitting chorus of a pop song, his first thought is a very tired, very annoyed _why?_

His second, far more exasperated thought is _Annabeth_. He grapples for his phone, nearly capsizing the lamp on his nightstand, and answers the call through narrowed, heavy eyes.

"Why did you change my ringtone?" Percy questions, burying his face in the nearest pillow. He pulls the phone away from his ear to glance at the time—7:30 A.M., _honestly_, and Annabeth's supposed to be his best friend. She knows his sleeping habits just as well as his mother does. "Do you need me to drive you to school again? I thought your car was out of the shop." Percy's not sure how much of that she understands through his yawning, but he supposes she gathered enough to laugh in response. He frowns. "Why are you laughing?"

"It's Saturday, first of all," she says. "And second of all, _Call Me Maybe _is a great song. I'm laughing because you're stupid." Percy lets out a sleepy, indignant noise at that. "And, also," Annabeth adds in a nicer tone, "good morning."

Percy hates her. It's 7:30 A.M. on a Saturday morning; the day he sleeps to his heart's content and goes for a leisurely run with his best friend. She changed his ringtone to the one song she _knows _he abhors on seven different levels, and still, _still_, Percy is smiling into his pillow. "Yeah, good morning," he answers, dumbly gentle. Honestly, he needs to get an education; take a class. How To Not Sound Like You Have A Crush On Your Friend 101 is the likely choice.

"What do you say we go to a movie this morning? It's matinée, which means it's cheaper," Annabeth proposes in a coaxing tone.

Percy opens one eye to squint skeptically, even if she isn't there to see it. If there's one thing he's learned about Annabeth, it's that she doesn't do very many things without a purpose. "Why?"

"We don't _have _to," she says. "If it helps, I'm paying. I'll buy you breakfast, too. And those weird chocolate things you always talk about."

"Cookie Dough Bites," Percy supplies helpfully.

"Cookie Dough Bites," she agrees. "You in?"

Percy drops all hopes of going back to sleep. He shifts, leaning up against his headboard, and hums thoughtfully into the phone. "I'm just wondering what your motive is."

"My motive is that I want to see a movie with you," she says plaintively. "Now, get of bed, take a shower, and please dress yourself. I'll be there in twenty."

Annabeth hangs up before he has a chance to respond. Percy doesn't like taking orders from anyone—not his mom, not teachers, not any authoritative figures, really. But somehow, Annabeth bossing him around is okay.

He stares at his home screen for a few seconds after Annabeth hangs up. It's still a good picture, if you ask him, despite the fact that it's off-center and a little blurry. She looks just a few moments away from laughing with a chunk of her hair partly covering her face, and Percy's staring at her like she hung the moon. For all he knows, Annabeth really _did _hang the moon.

A text buzzes through, Annabeth telling him to ' _get out of bed_' because she's ' _serious_.'

Percy sucks it up and ends up smiling while he rolls out of bed, just barely managing to land solidly on his feet.

;;

It's not a date. Percy thinks, anyways.

He covers the bill for breakfast, despite Annabeth's deep scowl and her insistence that _she _pulled him out of bed, so it's her job to pay. Percy was raised by Sally Jackson, and if it's one thing his mother taught him, it's that he should never make a lady pay on an outing. Unless it's her, of course. He negotiates with Annabeth and let's her pay for the movie, if only to keep her from huffing indignantly every few minutes.

It's... _weird_being out with Annabeth. Percy can't think of a better word to describe the jitters he has; the hardly perceptible shake to his hands, the rhythmic bouncing of his knees. Annabeth doesn't have a single imperfection in her composure, as far as Percy can see. He tells himself it's not a date, mentally lists off the reasons _why _it isn't a date, and doesn't even consider holding her hand.

(For the most part, anyways. Annabeth's hands are very holdable; small and dainty and usually left palm-up like an invitation—and, Percy, well... He's only human.)

It's when they're leaving the movie that Annabeth ruins all progress Percy's made as far as maintaining platonic thoughts goes.

"So," she drawls, insinuatory, like he should know what she's referring to.

"So," he echoes, trying to match her tone. He thinks he just sounds confused.

"Have you thought about what you want? For winning the race?"

_No,_Percy thinks, ignoring it when she turns to look at him. _No, I've actually been ignoring that train of thought. And with good reason. _"Oh, yeah. I've been considering. Still not sure, though."

"It can be anything," Annabeth reminds him. She gives him an expectant look.

Percy has a feeling Annabeth wants him to wish for something in particular, and he's gearing up to ask her _just _what it is that she wants; his arms crossing over his chest reflexively and his head tipping forward, corner of his mouth lifting up flirtatiously.

However, before he can even utter one word, two tanned hands are covering Annabeth's eyes. And they aren't his. Percy even checks to make sure his hands are safe and sound gripping onto his upper arms.

"Guess who?" Jason sing-songs, and Percy scowls. This is Percy's Annabeth Day, and Jason is far from invited.

Annabeth hums thoughtfully, but the tilt to her mouth tells Percy that she already knows. That makes him feel nauseous. He has half a mind to excuse himself from this entire exchange. "Is it... Percy?"

"Obviously," Percy replies, before Jason can get a word in. "Since I was both behind you _and _in front of you in the same instant."

Annabeth probably rolls her eyes. Percy can't know for sure, because Jason's hands are _still _over her eyes, _still _touching Annabeth. He's liking this Jason guy less and less as the seconds tick on.

"Well, Percy's getting mouthy over here," Annabeth says sarcastically.

"Probably because he's been hanging out with you too much," Jason says teasingly, far too close to Annabeth's ear. Percy is not on board with this.

"Oh, oh!" Annabeth bites her bottom lip, like she does when she can't figure out a math problem. Her eyes are covered, so Percy let's himself stare at her lips, unadulterated and uncaring. If she can't even see him, he doesn't need to _sneak_glances. "It's..."

"Jason," Percy blurts, like a complete idiot. Jason shoots him a look that seems to say ' _hey, man, what the hell_,' and _oh_, good fucking riddance, Percy could not be more stupid. "Shit. Uh, sorry."

"You're fine," Annabeth reassures him, blindly reaching out a placating hand. She's way off, and Percy (knowing her hatred for being wrong) steps over to where her hand is grasping thin air, letting her squeeze his arm gently. "I already knew, anyways, don't beat yourself up over it. Jason's the only one who ever does this immature thing anyways. We were just having a little fun and—Jason, get your hands off of my face, you idiot!"

And, well, Percy has a right to frown at that, he thinks. He had been under the impression that fond name-calling was something Annabeth only did with him. A Percy-And-Annabeth-And-Not-Jason Thing. She's smiling the smile that makes a little dimple appear in her left cheek and, okay, Percy hadn't disillusioned himself into believing he was the only one who could make Annabeth smile, but it still makes his stomach turn unpleasantly.

After Jason removes his hands, she turns and wraps him in a hug. Percy averts his eyes, stares intently at a tree across the street. "What are you doing here?" Annabeth asks, sounding friendly. Percy narrows his eyes at the tree.

"Seeing a movie," Jason replies drily.

"Looks like Percy isn't the only one getting mouthy," Annabeth comments. Percy continues staring at his tree, even if he can feel her glance in his direction. "Anyways, we were just leaving, so—"

"Oh, I know everyone who works here," Jason interjects, inviting tone in place. "You guys should just sneak in for another show with us. Unless you've already seen the Hercules one?"

"'Us'?" Annabeth sounds surprised, maybe even jealous—Percy doesn't know the lengths of her and Jason's relationship. "Who is _us_?"

Percy refuses to pay anything more than auditory attention to their conversation. His tree, somehow, looks sympathetic. If trees can be sympathetic, that is. Percy decides that they can.

"Just Piper," Jason says, sounding smug. Percy rolls his eyes at the tree. A leaf falls in response, like it agrees with him.

"_Just_Piper," Annabeth repeats, snorting lightly. Percy almost frowns; he loves watching her facial expressions as she talks, and he's missing a ton of them. "Well, Percy and I wouldn't want to intrude. Besides, we're having an, uh... Day. Of our own."

"Intrude?" Jason sounds confused. "Hey, no, it's totally cool. It could even be, like, a double—"

"_Anyways_," Annabeth interrupts, loudly and pointedly. Percy snaps his head around, glancing between the two of them because he has a pretty good idea of what word was about to follow 'double.' "Percy and I," she says again, and _man_, could Percy get used to the sound of that, "already have plans."

"We do?"

Annabeth turns to him, blonde curls falling off her shoulder. Percy stares at them until his vision blurs. "Saturday. Afternoon run. Percy and Annabeth. For, like, four months."

_Percy and Annabeth_, he thinks. That's another phrase he could get used to.

"Is any of this ringing a bell?" She sighs in aggravation, but the smile on her face gives her away. "Honestly, I knew you had a bad memory, but..."

If Percy were to be held at gunpoint, he could probably recite every word Annabeth had ever uttered his way. He could describe every facial expression, every soft laugh, and every time her skin has touched his. Percy has a bad memory when it comes to history, not when it comes to Annabeth. "I remember. All of them."

She pauses, licks her lips, and nods at him once, a look in her eye that he can't quite place. "Good."

Percy doesn't know what to make of that, so he turns to Jason with a much friendlier smile, now that it's been established that Jason is going on a date with someone else, and definitely not Annabeth. "Yeah, we'd love to, but Saturdays are kind of tradition for us. Some other time?" Percy, ever the amicable guy, reaches a hand out to shake Jason's. "We should run sometime, too."

"Am I not good enough for you?" Annabeth looks offended, bumping his hip with her own.

"Of course you are, Annabeth, you're perfect," Percy replies sweetly, though not without an eye roll. Annabeth seems pleased. "But really, man, we should."

Jason gives Percy a smile, highlighting a weird scar on his upper lip. Percy's polite enough not to stare. "Yeah, that'd be great, definitely."

Annabeth, abruptly, says farewell to Jason and drags Percy away by the hand. He gets so distracted by the feel of her skin that he forgets to say goodbye entirely.

;;

"Decided what you want yet?" Annabeth asks, sitting criss-cross in front of his locker and using Percy's bag as a cushion for her back. She didn't exactly ask to use it, and, as per usual, Percy isn't complaining. "For winning that race, I mean. Unless your birthday is coming up? Then you should probably tell me that, too."

Percy doesn't look up from his sparse history notes (honestly, he's only written down one definition and two, seemingly misspelled names in the past three days), but he does smile a little and shake his head. "My birthday's in August. Does this race deal have an expiration date? I might want to save up for a while then cash in all the wishes I get." Percy's good at avoiding the question. King of it, really. He would be a pain in every interrogator's ass.

"My birthday's in February," Annabeth shares, though Percy didn't really ask to know. Annabeth's the person who answers before she's asked; refusing to waste any time with the back and forth nature of the trivial questions, not usually, anyways. "It doesn't expire, but sooner is preferable. We might not even be friends next year, so I would strike while the iron is hot." She pauses, looking upward. "I never realized how weird all of these sayings are. I would never strike any iron, period."

Percy bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "Help me study for history," he decides, sighing a little. Percy could save this wish for ages, and he still wouldn't find the courage to ask for anything meaningful from her. "That's my wish. Get me an A on this next test."

She scowls at him. "Why wish for something I would end up doing anyways?"

Percy could answer, but he'd rather not. He shrugs. "Just trying to go easy on you. I don't want to be demanding."

"You know that 'anything you want' really does mean _anything you want_, right?" Annabeth reaches for her backpack, pulling out a black binder—the one he knows she uses for history. "I don't think you really _want _to study for history."

Percy meets her eyes, lifting his chin defiantly. "Maybe I do."

"You don't." She shakes her head once, firmly. "You _hate _studying."

He breaks the gaze, drawing a crooked line on his notebook. "Alright. I don't want the wish anymore. What's your return policy?"

Annabeth, almost begrudgingly, laughs, and lightly hits him on the shoulder with her binder. "There are no _returns _with wishes! Just pick something you'll actually enjoy." She holds out a hand, gesturing vaguely to his notebook. Percy hands it over, averting his eyes and flushing when Annabeth says, "Percy, these are the worst notes I've ever seen." He opens his mouth to defend himself, but Annabeth continues before he can stammer out a response. "Good thing you have me." She flips through her own binder and tucks a curl behind her ear.

And, right. Good thing he has Annabeth.

;;

Percy's late coming home on Thursday. He's tired after having spent a few hours in the sun, he's sated after spending a half-hour with Annabeth after her meet, and he's more than ready to eat dinner, breeze through his homework, and fall right into bed.

Sadly, tragically, and most of all _typically_, Percy's night does not go according to plan.

It starts with his mother saying, "I have something to tell you."

At that moment, Percy's mind goes three different places. One, his mom's gotten fired from her job working for the local paper, and Percy will be forced to apply at the local grocery store to help support them. He _hates_grocery stores. Two, she's done something illegal, is soon to be sent to jail, and he'll have to move in with his next living relative, which is probably a cousin he's never met in, like, Idaho or something. But, then it occurs to him that his mother doesn't sound upset or sad, which she definitely would be if she had gotten fired or caught doing something criminal.

So, three, his sparkling third thought: his mother's pregnant, and he's going to have a little brother or sister. He's not sure how that would have happened, but the idea is a contender. Percy wouldn't mind having a younger sibling, anyways; he gets a little lonely sometimes.

However, his mother says something far more terrifying than any of his other thoughts: "I was thinking I would start dating again."

Which—Percy's mother is a very independent woman. She's been able to raise Percy single-handedly, since his father didn't help much in that department and his stepfather was an atrocious parent. It's clear that she doesn't _need _a man; hasn't felt like dating for the past three years since they moved away from his stepfather, anyways, and Percy's developed a protective streak for all the women in his life after realizing how shitty some men could be. (Read: his stepfather.)

"That's… Good," Percy says hesitantly. It's a big step for his mother to admit something like that, and he would never stand in the way of his mother's happiness, since she deserves it more than anyone, but he can't be blamed for his indifference. "Uh, what made you think that?"

Sally folds her hands together in front of her empty dinner plate, nudging it further to the center of the table. "There was a man today placing an ad in the paper. _Paul_."

She says his name nearly reverently, so Percy raises his eyebrows. "_Paul_?" he repeats, in the same tone, even adding on a dreamy sigh. Sally slaps his arm playfully, and Percy grins, soon after pursing his lips. "Uh, tell me about him."

She seems to recognize the concern in his tone, since her expression softens and she squeezes his wrist. Instead of giving him a speech on how she can handle herself, Sally jumps into a description of Paul. "He's a very nice man, Percy. Reminded me a little bit of your father, he was so charming." Percy nods, gesturing for her to continue while he takes bites of his garlic bread. "He was placing an ad for some after school program over at where he works—Mendler Middle. He's an English teacher and loves to read. He even gave me a few recommendations for authors!"

His mother sounds so excited, Percy can't help but smile as she finally winds down from her rambling. "I'm not setting my heart on him," she continues, "but I feel like it's time. I wouldn't mind venturing out a little more, and getting to know some new people. I need to move on."

Percy doesn't mean to say it, but it comes out anyways. "I thought that's what you were doing every time we moved to a new town."

Immediately after the words leave his mouth, Percy regrets them. His mother is a great woman, and he's never minded moving from place to place, despite his want for stability and permanence. He wants her to be happy more than he wants to kiss Annabeth, probably, and that's saying a lot.

Sally, however, gives him a maternal smile. "That was a part of it. This—dating again—is my final step. I know you're not happy with my decision"—Percy makes a noise of disagreement; he _is _happy for her—"or at least not happy with the idea of me being hurt again," she continues, giving him a knowing look. "But I'm a grown woman. I will live with my mistakes, if this is one."

Percy mulls over that, thinking carefully. He worries for his mother a lot; knows that she's had enough of the worst to last her a lifetime, and really, truly deserves the best. If this is something she thinks will preserve her happiness, he's undoubtedly on board with it. Except… "He has to have my seal of approval before the first date."

Sally smiles warmly, patting Percy's hand. "Of course he will."

She makes him another plate of spaghetti without him even having to ask for seconds, and suggests they watch a movie. Despite his exhaustion and unfinished homework, he knows his mother'll worry if he turns down the offer—assuming that he's distrusting of her decision-making skills or upset with her. Percy doesn't want his mother to worry any more than she already does, even if he is still a little reluctant to watch her venture out into the dating world once more, but he loves her more than his uncertainty.

He sits down and watches one of her favorite movies, resolving to finish his homework tomorrow at lunch. Annabeth's always more than willing to help.

;;

"And, like, now she wants to date again," Percy finishes his explanation, gesturing vaguely before he drops his hand into his lap. "I'm worried. I mean, I know every guy isn't like the guys she's been with, but… I'm her son. And I'm the only person who's been here through the whole thing, you know? And I'm the only person who's watched her fall in love and get hurt. And it's—I'm worried."

Annabeth cocks her head to the side, as if to ask whether or not he's all done. Percy's been talking for ten minutes straight, probably, detailing the situation and generally venting about everything that's happened in the past few years. He nods once, answering in the affirmative to her silent question, and points at his history homework. "Who is Bunker Hill?"

She barks out a laugh, reaching up to cover her mouth with the back of her hand. "It's a place, you idiot. There was a battle there—well, kind of. That was the original destination, but they actually ended up at Breed's Hill. It was the British versus Americans; the British won." Percy scrawls all of that down, sending Annabeth a grateful smile. "About your mother…"

"Oh, you don't really have to say anything," Percy says, feeling a little embarrassed. He'd just told Annabeth a good portion of his life story, and he doubts he would have a very good response if anyone told him as much as he'd divulged to her. "Honestly. Thanks for listening."

"Shut up," Annabeth says, reading over his shoulder and tapping the paragraph that has the answer to number eleven—thankfully his final question. "Look, if I have to be honest, I think you were right letting her go for it."

Percy scowls at that, but he knows she's right. "I just don't want to see her ending up with another guy like my stepdad."

"Which is reasonable," Annabeth comments, resting her hand on his arm. "Really, it's great that you're worried for her—you should be, and you're a great son, so it's natural for you to want to look out for her." He nods when Annabeth pauses, not moving his arm an inch so that he doesn't dislodge Annabeth's comforting hand. "And it's really great that you told her you were happy for her and all, even if you weren't. I mean, just thinking about having to go through what she did with both of your, uh, dads..." Annabeth says, sounding questioning like she's not sure that's the right phrase. It's not, not really, but he doesn't correct her. "I can only imagine how hard it is to make this decision. And even if you don't agree, you're still supporting her. That in itself will keep her happy."

Percy shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. I'm still worried, though. Like what if this Paul guy doesn't work out? She really likes him, Annabeth. Like, almost as much as—" Percy nearly laughs, realizing what he was about to say. _Almost as much as I like you_, honestly, he needs to get a hold on his brain-to-mouth filter. He clears his throat, ignores Annabeth's curious look, and keeps talking. "She just likes him a lot. And if it turns out he's married, or something, I know she'll be disappointed."

"And if she is, you'll be the perfect son and pat her shoulder and tell her to get back out there and try again," Annabeth encourages, holding his arm a little tighter, moving closer to his wrist. He wonders if he could persuade her to overlap his hand with her own, and, almost like magic, Annabeth _does_. Percy nearly chokes on air, but he manages to maintain his composure, staring at Annabeth's hand where it rests just on top of his own. "You're a good guy, Percy. You'll do the right thing. It's fine to worry about your mother, but try to be supportive. It's a big step for both of you."

Percy nods, knowing Annabeth's right. Annabeth's _always _right. "Thank you," he tells her after a few seconds. "You're helping, um. A lot."

"Not the 'a lot' thing again," Annabeth says, feigning annoyance. Percy smiles at the memory of that day at the cafe, feeling about two steps away from fainting when Annabeth grips his hand tightly, just for a second, before she pulls away entirely. "You'll both be fine."

Percy's heart beats dangerously fast. Percy's not so sure he'll be alright if Annabeth keeps touching him, but he decides to keep that thought to himself and wrap up his homework.

;;

After Annabeth learns a little more about Percy's past and his life in general, it seems that she never wants to leave his side. Percy is far, far, _far _from complaining, since Annabeth not leaving his side means extended study sessions, where they do a lot more talking (and potentially flirting—Percy is still on the fence about the implications of Annabeth's love for mocking and teasing him mercilessly) and, therefore, less learning. It also means Annabeth feels more comfortable with him, evidently, since she's not necessarily holding back on the physical affection any longer. Percy doesn't think he's ever been so happy with quick hugs and gentle punches to his shoulder.

He still wants to hold her hand a little (and maybe even kiss her until he's suffering from asphyxiation), but he's surviving. Annabeth's hands are always warm when she grips his upper arm or rubs his back during a hug, Percy's on a constant high from Annabeth's attention, and his mother has acquired Paul's cell phone number. He thinks that a lot of things are going better than he planned, as of late. (Well, besides that math test he flunked, despite his confidence while actually taking the test.)

Track season comes to an end. Percy drives an hour and a half just to cheer her on at the final meet, and he gets a tight hug and a hand squeeze for his troubles. It's definitely worth it.

And the thing is, Percy thinks, Annabeth is kind of wonderful. She does things that he would _hate _if it were anyone else—like pointing out his embarrassment, or inviting herself over early on a day he planned on sleeping through—but it always ends up being okay with Annabeth. Percy's kind of a pushover when it comes to pretty girls.

"You're highlighting the whole page," Annabeth says into the dead silence, save a few sighs. Percy jumps a little, glancing down at the passage in which he was only supposed to highlight key details. "You're only supposed to highlight the important stuff."

Percy shrugs. "It's… all important?" he tries. Annabeth laughs a little at his expense, staring at his entirely orange passage. He covers the sheet with his arms, frowning slightly. "I got distracted."

She looks back to her own work, seemingly color coded and complete with a key at the top. Percy envies Annabeth study habits. "Then pay attention, idiot."

And, that's another thing. Percy was never a big fan of name-calling—or, at least, he hardly appreciated it when it came from that kid two years older than him when he was in the second grade—but it's fine with Annabeth. Anticipated, even. "Fine. Idiot."

Annabeth raises an eyebrow. "I'm not the one who just used my passage as a coloring page," she says slowly, mouth curving a little more into a smile with every word. "But call me what you will."

Percy scowls at her deeply, and Annabeth smiles serenely in reply. "I don't like you."

"You wouldn't be passing history if it weren't for me," Annabeth replies flippantly, rolling her eyes. "Of course you like me."

She goes back to highlighting. Percy watches her eyes jump around the page, sees her fingertips brush over a highlighter just before she picks it up and uncaps it. He's so busy watching her dainty hand hold the page still that he completely misses her bringing a pink highlighter closer to his face.

He goes home with a pink line down the side of his face. He leaves Annabeth with his initials on her arm.

;;

When one has a Monday off because of a teacher workday, Percy thinks, they should spend the day catching up on some much needed sleep.

Annabeth, as usual, has other plans. She's calling him at 8 A.M., having a mostly one-sided conversation while Percy just vaguely grunts in response, not really listening, and hopes she takes pity on him, offering a few more hours of sleep. He hangs up when he hears her say goodbye and rolls back over to sleep.

The next time he wakes up, there's two blondes hovering over him and a flash going off. He groans pitifully and pulls a pillow over his head, curling closer to the wall. Annabeth laughs, like she usually does at Percy's pain, and Percy is too tired to even smile at how much he loves the sound.

"Why are you here?" Percy's voice is muffled, since he's speaking directly into a pillow. "Why is Jason here?"

A hand pushes at his shoulder. He elbows them away, not really caring whether or not it's Jason or Annabeth. "We talked about this an hour ago." The same hand shoves at his shoulder, lingering for a little longer and running across the expanse of his shoulders. The hand decidedly belongs to Annabeth. His bed dips as someone seats themselves. Percy decides he doesn't like not knowing who's on his bed, so he moves the pillow until he can peek out from the edge.

Jason gives him an apologetic smile from where he sits near Percy's feet. "Sorry, man. Annabeth neglected to mention that you were sleeping."

Percy sniffs, deciding not to reply. He needs his beauty sleep. And, speaking of, he can't imagine what kind of bedhead he's sporting right now. He covers his face again. "How did you even get in here?"

"Via the door," Annabeth answers, yanking the pillow out of Percy's loose grasp and smiling sweetly at him. He might not mind being woken up so early, if it means seeing that. "Now, come on. Get up. Jason's brought movies and I've brought food."

"I did not agree to this." Percy vaguely remembers agreeing through his sleep-hazed mind, but he doesn't mention that. "Both of you. Leave. Return when it is past noon."

"Percy," Annabeth says enticingly. Everything Annabeth does is enticing, now that Percy thinks about it. She sits down on the edge of his bed, reaching out a hand to ruffle his hair. He moves out of her reach after a moment of indulging himself in her touch. "Food. I brought food. _Breakfast_. And you agreed to all of this on the phone."

"I was sleepy." His voice is close to a whine. Annabeth smiles at his protest, and Percy wonders what he would do if Jason weren't a few feet away. He kind of wants to tug Annabeth down to lay beside him and sleep for a while more.

"I'll make you pancakes," Annabeth coaxes, slow smile stretching across her face, like she knows she's already won.

Percy means to say something like 'no, actually, please leave so I can sleep a little more,' but instead what comes out is, "Alright, Annabeth." And his voice is stupidly soft—Mildly Embarrassing on a scale of one to Absolute Mortification. He clears his throat at an attempt of redemption, shoves at her shoulder, and pushes at Jason's back with his foot. "Both of you, leave me. I'll be expecting pancakes after my shower."

Annabeth cheers, tugging Jason to the door. "I'll come back with a vengeance if you go back to sleep," she says brightly, like she isn't threatening him at all. She closes the door before he can ask what kind of vengeance they're talking.

Percy learned a long time ago that it's best not to go against Annabeth's wishes. He rolls out of bed.

;;

"And this is what we're eating for lunch?"

"Absolutely."

"I... Annabeth, _no_."

"I promise it isn't as awful as you would think," Jason says, patting Percy on the back. "I believe in you."

"Sour Patch Kids," Percy mutters, almost in wonder. "Sour Patch Kids as a _pizza topping._"

"Yes, that's what it is, for the fifth time now," Annabeth says, exasperated. "Just try it. You liked the strawberry cream cheese and Ritz!"

Percy stares at the pizza, which smells a lot better than it looks. He's never been a fan of pizza toppings, save pepperoni. "I don't think I can do this."

Annabeth sighs, scooping up a slice and sliding it onto his hand. "Percy. Please. _For me_." She stares at him imploringly, and Percy realizes that he never even had a chance. "You can have a second wish."

"I haven't even used the first one," Percy mumbles, pinching off a piece of the pizza that doesn't have sour candy on it.

"_Percy_," Annabeth says warningly, like a mother chastising her son. "It's pizza. You love pizza."

"This is weird, unnatural Annabeth Pizza," Percy retorts. "I don't eat pizza like this."

Annabeth narrows her eyes at him, looking for a chink in the armor. She knows there's a way to get to him; knows there's something she can say that'll lead to her getting her way. Percy tries to telepathically tell her that if she said 'you can kiss me if you eat this,' he'd down it in one bite like a man starved. "Your eyes look pretty right now."

Percy rolls his eyes. He might have a crush the size of Jupiter on Annabeth, but he's not _that _stupid. "Don't manipulate me with compliments." He picks off another, safe chunk of pizza. "You'll have to try a little harder."

Annabeth sighs, glancing at Jason like he'll be able to help. Jason doesn't even look up from his phone. "Percy, try this pizza, please. It's important to me. It's my _favorite_."

He knows he's being stubborn just on principle now; that he'll end up trying this pizza whether he likes it or not because it's something Annabeth's asking of him (complete with a 'please'). When she realizes that he isn't going to answer with anything more than his unimpressed eyebrow raise, she picks up a slice herself and takes a bite. "Fine, starve for all I care."

Annabeth _doesn't _give up, is the thing. Percy knows something's up; that she has a plan she's not disclosing. "This is my house," he says slowly. "We have more food."

She shrugs. "Then eat the other food."

Percy tries his hardest to refrain from frowning; he's only been in the presence of an indifferent Annabeth twice, maybe, in all the months he's known her. She has an opinion on everything, from what brand of binders are the best to how the world was brought into existence. And, somehow, Percy's started to love hearing all of her opinions, regardless of how pointless they were. Now that Annabeth's stopped fighting him on the topic, Percy kind of wants her to.

He decides there's something really weird going on in his mind. With a resigned sigh, and a realization that he was always going to take a bite in the first place, Percy brings the pizza to his mouth.

Annabeth pretends she doesn't notice, but he sees one corner of her lips turn up smugly. "So?"

Percy scowls when he takes another bite. "It's alright," he says, stubbornly, but in reality he's wondering whether or not he could serve pizza with Sour Patch Kids at his wedding. Percy finishes off his first slice, gone lukewarm from his hesitation to eat it, and side-eyes the pizza on the pan, cut into uneven eighths.

Annabeth turns to him, knowing smile in place. "Told you so."

"You told me nothing." Percy lifts his chin defiantly, narrowing his eyes at her. "What made you try Sour Patch Kids on pizza in the first place?"

"It was an accident, actually," Jason pipes up, "and it was my fault. It was, what, fifth grade?"

"Sixth," Annabeth corrects after a moment of consideration.

Percy's learned that Jason's head over heels for a girl named Piper, but that doesn't mean he likes the fact that Annabeth and Jason have memories dating back to the sixth grade. He's jealous of anyone who's had the pleasure of knowing her for that long.

"Right, it was sixth. Anyways, I was getting back at her for something—can't remember what, actually—but I hid a Sour Patch Kid under a pepperoni. It backfired when she ended up enjoying it."

"Which shows that you should just never plot against me," Annabeth says, addressing Percy. "You'll lose, one way or another."

"Noted," Percy says, trying to look casual when he grabs another slice of pizza. Annabeth's smile tells him that he didn't succeed. "Not that I would anyways."

Annabeth makes a pleased sound, patting Percy's hand where it rests on the counter. He doesn't choke on his pizza, but it's a near thing. "You're very smart, Percy."

Jason mutters something under his breath, but Percy's too busy trying not to look at the counter, where Annabeth's hand continues to rest over his. It's colder than his, smaller than his, and tanner than his. He loves every contrast that comes to mind.

"I'm going to pick a movie," Jason announces, pushing off from the counter. "Piper says to tell everyone hello, by the way."

"Hi," Percy replies, like Piper's in front of him. "Nice to meet you, Piper."

He thinks he hears Annabeth laugh, but Jason's prolonged sigh drowns out the sound. He exits the kitchen, Annabeth moves her hand, and Percy bites back a smile.

;;

Halfway through _21_, rain starts coming down in sheets.

While Annabeth wanders over to the window to squint at the sudden change in weather, Jason disappears into the kitchen in search of food, and Percy's left on the couch missing a good portion of dialogue due to the deafening rain. He pauses it.

"Weird," Annabeth comments, leaning her arm against the wall, craning her neck upward like maybe she can see whatever raincloud's causing the issue from that angle. "Came out of nowhere."

"A lot of things do," Percy answers noncommittally, though he'll admit that it's been sunny and bright all day—the rain doesn't seem like it should be there. In fact, the sun is still shining, despite the rain.

Annabeth turns to him, still leaning against the wall, and Percy wants to lean against it with her—maybe crowd her up against it, a little, kiss her like he wants. "Bad things and good things."

Percy blinks and backtracks, but he comes up empty. "Uh, sorry?"

She smiles gently—nothing more than a tilt to her lips, really—and shakes her head. "Nothing, I'm just talking."

It goes silent for a second while Percy stares at his feet and Annabeth looks at god knows what. The silence is oddly comfortable, which is a relief. Percy's never been all that great at filling empty space up with pretty words.

Annabeth, without saying anything else, comes and sits next to him. Percy fidgets with his own hands mindlessly; not necessarily nervous, but not really calm, either. It's been a while since he's become close enough with a friend to feel content in silence, both looking out the window with their own thoughts. He wonders how many friends Annabeth has like that, and almost asks just because he knows Annabeth won't ridicule him for a weird question, but she knocks her knee against his, elbows his side gently, and says, "Hey."

Percy tears his eyes away from the window, focusing his attention on Annabeth. "Yeah?"

She shrugs, glancing down at her lap, and it might be the first time Percy's seen his blonde friend appear hesitant. "Nothing. Just, you know, glad you ended up moving here. I mean, it could have been anywhere, right? But I'm glad you came here. I think."

"You think?" Percy teases, feeling warm all over from Annabeth's words.

She nudges their knees together again, a little harder and for a little longer, giving him a look. "I'm trying to be nice."

"You're doing great," Percy encourages, nodding. "Carry on."

Huffing, Annabeth slumps further into the couch and pulls her feet up to rest beside her. "'M all done. Your turn."

"That's it?" Percy frowns a little, pretending to be upset. "There's _nothing _else nice you can say about me?"

"I could," Annabeth mutters, and doesn't expand beyond that. She inhales and exhales, tilting her head back so that it rests on the couch. Percy stares, like he usually does when Annabeth's involved.

"Dude, you have a toaster?"

Percy snaps his head towards the kitchen, where Jason's leaning out from the archway. "Yeah, 'course. It's in the cabinet beside the fridge." Jason salutes him and disappears once more. He hears cabinet doors slamming open and closed.

When he looks back to Annabeth, she's tapping away at her phone. "Everything alright?"

"Fine," Annabeth promises, pressing her shoulder against his like a reassurance. Percy's not sure what to do with all of these casual touches, besides return them and try to keep from looking like an idiot. "Just checking in with my dad—he was supposed to get on a flight today, but I'm not sure what time or anything…"

"Hopefully they just delayed it," Percy says, just as a text buzzes through. He leans over her shoulder to read it, and he smiles upon realizing he was right. "All good?"

"All good," she agrees, casting her eyes towards the window again. It doesn't look like the rain's letting up, and the sun's hiding behind a cloud, leaving the sky a murky grey. Percy's always preferred sunlight. "Looks like we won't be running today."

Percy sighs, shifting a little to get the kinks out of his back. "Was that on the agenda?"

"Yeah, all three of us were going to. Jason's idea," she adds, like it matters.

"Nice of him," Percy mentions, not quite sure how to answer. "We will on Saturday. All three of us, if you want? We could invite him."

Annabeth nods, pinching a bit of her shirt sleeve between her fingers. "We could."

"But you don't want to." Percy's learned a lot about Annabeth—like, for example, the voice she uses when there's something she isn't saying.

"Saturdays are tradition," Annabeth declares, idly running her thumb over the fabric of her jeans. "Between you and I. Jason could tag along, if you want, but I'm fine with just us."

Percy tries to be as casual about it as possible, but he probably looks like a cross between an over-eager puppy and an extremely pleased boy whose crush just announced they have a tradition. "Just us is good," he decides, after a moment.

Annabeth doesn't reply verbally, but she leans towards him a little more than she usually would. "Nice to see we're on the same page."

Jason emerges from the kitchen with a bagel in hand, Annabeth moves her feet off the couch to make room for him, and Percy fumbles for the remote to start up the movie again.

;;

Saturday morning, Percy rolls out of bed, sun gently cascading through his blinds, warmth clinging to his skin from his comforter, and literal birds chirping as he reaches consciousness.

The illusion is shatters when Percy steps on a corner of his Algebra 2 textbook. _Fuck _math, honestly—the subject's been ruining his days since the first grade. He stumbles down the hall with an injured foot, plucks a banana from their fruit basket, and falls into the nearest chair.

He'll be meeting Annabeth in less than an hour, and Percy knows better than to load up on unhealthy food before running, so he finishes off the banana and downs a glass of water. Leaning against the counter, he lets his mind wander for a few minutes, still in that pleasant place of 'I just woke up and my life hasn't taken any exceptionally horrible turns just yet.'

He wonders what next year will be like, assuming that he remains in the same town and at the same school. He wonders if his mom will be smiling while she leaves for dates with the Paul guy, or if Annabeth'll still text him on Saturdays to make sure they're going through with their run. He wonders what it'll be like when he does join track team, as promised, and runs alongside Annabeth at practices.

He wonders if, by next school year, his and Annabeth's relationship will have changed. He can see it clearly if he uses enough imagination—Percy holding her hand in the car on the way to school, Annabeth kissing him before she gets out of the car, Percy pulling Annabeth in close for a hug while she laughs at something he's just said. It's Utopian, exactly what he wants with Annabeth, and entirely unrealistic, seeing as he can hardly flirt with her without letting it fall flat.

Percy sighs, pushes off from the counter, and gets dressed. If things are going to change by next year, Percy'll probably have to act on all of these wants and wishes. It's not likely he will, but the thought that he _could _is enough to keep him sane.

He's decidedly going to be a little late to their afternoon run, having made a pit stop at his mom's office just to say hello and talk for a few minutes. She walks him out with a maternal ruffling of his hair and a promise that she'll cook something Italian for dinner. Percy calls Annabeth as soon as the door shuts behind his mom.

"Where are you?" If Percy's hearing correctly past the surface irritation, Annabeth's worried about him. "I've been waiting at Baker Street for twelve minutes."

Percy feels a little guilty for not texting. "Just visiting Mom. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's fine," she answers. "But I'd suggest you hurry before I change my mind."

He walks at a pace just below a jog, not wanting to leave Annabeth sitting in the sun and admittedly anxious to be in her company. It feels like it's been weeks since he last saw her, despite having waved goodbye at the school doors just yesterday afternoon.

Annabeth's leaning up against a tree providing her with generous shade, phone out and a cross between a grin and a scowl on her face. Percy collapses against the tree beside her, raising an eyebrow when she immediately shifts her screen away from his eyes. It's not like Annabeth to be secretive, not with him or with anyone else, as far as he knows.

"Everything alright?" he asks cautiously. Percy's never had Annabeth be truly upset with him, and he doesn't want today to be the first time, especially over something as common as being late.

Annabeth nods, but turns her face away from him, looking towards the road they usually run on. "Yeah, great."

She starts walking and doesn't say anything else, doesn't even rib him for being late to their special tradition, and that's what worries him the most. Annabeth doesn't usually pass up on an opportunity to embarrass Percy, or at least tease him a little.

"Sorry I'm late," he tries, not trusting his coordination enough to knock their shoulders together apologetically.

"It's fine," she tells him for the second time, though this go-around it's a little more clipped. "We can run now."

Which, more than anything, is a thinly veiled _shut up_. Percy clears his throat quietly, picks up into a brisk jog, and doesn't say another word.

They race, like always, and Annabeth wins, like usual. She looks at him like she's expecting a 'right, so I'll be heading home' to tumble out of his mouth, but Percy keeps walking.

Even if Annabeth's being short with him, Percy's still going to take every measure he can to ensure she's alright. They walk in silence for a while, and as soon as he sees the dirt side-road, he reaches over and pulls at her wrist. "Come on," he says, tugging her over to the brown dirt and being careful not to ruin his shoes too much.

"Where are we going?" Annabeth asks, peering up at the trees with distrust. Percy vows that he'll protect her from any spider that dares cross their path, and it's apparently enough to deserve a smile. "Seriously, where are you taking me?"

Percy shrugs, since he hasn't a clue. There had been something oddly enticing about the narrow dirt road—some small promise of adventure, even if it turned out to be a dead end with nothing more than a few logs covered in moss and various bugs. "We'll see."

She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, but doesn't turn back and tell him she'll see him later. "If you get us lost..."

Percy doesn't need to hear the end of that sentence to know it'll be a graphic, violent threat. "I won't," Percy says, rolling his eyes and sending her what he hopes is a persuasive grin. "Trust me."

Annabeth looks wary, but she lets him lead the way nonetheless. Percy has a feeling Annabeth's used to being the leader—the head of the pack, the team captain, the first to take a step before the others fall in behind her—so it hits him hard that she _does _trust him, enough to relinquish her constant control and let Percy form the path before she steps on it.

Percy decides that there's a reckless feeling in his veins today—one that lets him reach for her hand without worry. _For safety reasons_, he thinks, until Annabeth grips his palm tightly and Percy's left thinking nothing at all.

The trees are getting taller the further he leads her down the road, and if it weren't bright and sunny outside, he would say it's the perfect place to film a horror movie. The deeper they go into the forest, the less audible the sounds of the city are, and Percy finds himself glad he's exploring this peaceful place with Annabeth of all people. If anyone needs relaxation time, a few moments away from the hustle and bustle (or, well, as much of that as a small town like Glennwood can have), it's Annabeth.

Up ahead, Percy notes a little dip in the road, filled up with muddy water, no doubt the result of the rain they've been getting lately. He falls a step back so that he's in line with her rather than ahead. "You've said you're a hurdler?"

Annabeth seems confused at the sudden question. "I mean, I've tried it out a few times. I was alright. Why?"

"Just wondering whether or not I'll be carrying you through that mud or if we can both manage to jump over it," Percy says honestly. "Are you more of a bridal-style girl, or do you prefer piggy-back rides?"

"I prefer taking care of it myself," she shares, though Percy had expected as much. "But, for future reference and if you _must _carry me, bridal-style is appreciated and preferred."

Percy gets a brief running start to help himself make it over the murky water and moves a few steps past it to give Annabeth landing room of her own. While Percy had ended up just a few inches past the puddle, Annabeth manages to be closer to him than she is the mud.

He whistles lowly. "Someone did the long jump on field days in middle school," Percy teases, grinning at her. "That was impressive."

"Shut up," Annabeth responds, giving him a bored look. Then, "I _did _win first place in the long jump sixth grade year."

Percy laughs, shaking his head. "Of course you did." They both skirt around a fair-sized rock on the right side of the trail, and a butterfly's startled from it's resting place atop the rock.

"Again, shut up," Annabeth mutters grumpily, and then she takes his hand, just like he'd taken hers. He tries not to let that go to his head; chalks it up to nothing more than a nice nature-filled walk that someone influences one to hold their friend's hand. It's not like Percy's upset about it. "So, why are we on this road?"

"We're getting lost," Percy answers simply. "It seemed like you could use a break, like. A breather."

"That's mighty observant of you." Annabeth's voice is measured, like she's forcing the lack of inflection, and knowing Annabeth, there's a high chance she is. As good as she is at communicating her emotions, she's pretty talented at masking them too, when need be.

"Just looking out for you like you do for me," Percy returns, because apparently everything's easier to say when one's in the woods, holding a girl like Annabeth's hand. "You're probably so busy making sure I don't trip over my own two feet and get a concussion to even worry about yourself. Which, to be fair, is a real concern you should have. I got a concussion in kindergarten when I tripped."

Annabeth sends him an amused smile. "Idiot."

"Wasn't too sure of how to navigate stairs," Percy explains. "Tried to walk down the little set, you know, leaving my teacher's class. Completely missed a step."

She hisses sympathetically. "Ouch. How hard did you cry?"

"Hard enough to not even realize I was bleeding. Mom freaked when I got in the car, or at least that's what she told me. I was pretty young to remember anything past the incident."

"Where'd you go to kindergarten?" Annabeth inquires, ducking down to avoid a tree branch. Percy uses his other hand to lift up the next few for her, letting her walk past the tree unharmed. He knows how it feels to run into a tree branch, and he doesn't want that for Annabeth.

"In Washington," Percy shares. "That's where my mom grew up."

"And that's where she met your dad?"

Percy shakes his head, with a small smile. He likes that Annabeth wants to know more about him, for whatever reason. "Nah, she met him on some beach in New York. It was a vacation."

"Sounds romantic," Annabeth comments. "The beach was a nice place to meet, I'm sure."

Percy wonders if Annabeth would think of a track at a high school as a nice, romantic place to meet. "It's weird, like. Mom's definitely moved on from my dad—she's in _love _with this guy Paul right now, so naturally—but when she talks about Dad there's this look she has." Percy gestures vaguely, not quite sure how to put the way her eyes get far away into words, nor the reminiscent, significant smile that usually appears on her lips.

Annabeth hums like she understands. "My dad is the same way. With my mom."

Percy perks up at the information, swinging their hands a little. So sue him—it's not often he gets to learn more about Annabeth's past, and every time he does it's like his mom's announced they're heading for Disney World. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Annabeth says back. "He still says she's the best thing that's ever happened to him. I think it's sad, though."

He glances down at his feet, noting the dirt that's caked on the side of his shoes. Peering around for a wide tree, Percy spares Annabeth a look. "Sad?"

"I mean, think about it," she says. "The best thing that ever happened to you is a one-off? That'd be awful."

Percy shrugs. "Might be the appeal of it all. You know, it's not often you get to know one-offs on a deep level, so it's like you don't really know enough about them to find something you don't like. They're the best thing that ever happened because, like, you had a good weekend with them, or a nice, light-hearted experience, not because you got to know them well."

He tugs Annabeth in the direction of a suitable tree, dropping her hand and pressing it against the tree to steady himself while he cleans his shoes off on the rough bark. He wishes he wouldn't have wore his best ones on the day he chose to take Annabeth on an adventure that wasn't the grocery store. "That's oddly profound, Percy," she tells him, after a few seconds of silence—save the sounds of nature and Percy kicking a tree to rid of the dirt. "I feel like I would need to know someone really well before I could…"

She doesn't finish her sentence, but Percy reads her loud and clear. "Yeah, I'm the same. My parents were in their early twenties, though, so. Probably in that commitment-phobic time block."

"I'm non-commitment-phobic," Annabeth discloses, sounding hesitant if his ears don't deceive him.

"I'm the same," Percy repeats, smile on his face.

"At least our parents got two level-headed children for their trouble." Annabeth seems content to lean her weight on the tree for a few more minutes, so Percy decides it's time for a rest. They both take a moment to look around and take in the sights. He chose a good path, it seems—one with birds chirping from their nests in the trees and the faraway sound of running water. Percy wonders if there's a stream somewhere down the line. "I'm glad you took me here. It's nice."

Percy waves her off. "Don't worry about it. Figured I owed you an adventure for the lack of excitement in the last one."

Annabeth scoffs. "And where's the excitement in this one? You took me down a muddy path in the woods that looks like it's been frequented by four-wheelers, it's not like you bought me that one-way trip to Paris."

Percy laughs at her tone, knowing that while she'd sound rude and ungrateful to anyone else, it's really just how she chooses to express her thanks. He winds an arm around her neck, pulling her a little closer while she huffs in indignation. "The excitement is my presence," Percy says, more into her hair than anything else. "I'm _wonderful_."

"You smell like sweat," Annabeth says, instead of agreeing with him.

"Wrong answer," Percy sing-songs, holding her that much tighter. She fights against his grip, though probably not half as roughly as she could. "Tell me I'm wonderful."

"Fishing for compliments is unbecoming," she counters, pinching his arm. "Let me go; you smell like the boys' locker room!"

"Probably because I frequent it," Percy says drily. "Seeing as I am a boy, and I have gym class with you." He pauses. "Wait, why and when were you ever in the boys' locker room?"

"I was forced to clean it last school year." A shudder wracks her body, like the event was traumatizing. Knowing how gross most teenage boys tend to be, Percy assumes that it was. He loosens up on her, a little sympathetic. "I had to clean out the lockers that hadn't been cleared on the last day of school. There are some downfalls to being Coach's favorite."

"You think you'll have to clean them again this year?" Percy asks, smirking at her mischievously. She blinks, considering, and shrugs. "I _could _leave a sandwich in there for the rest of the school year for you to deal with."

"Don't you _dare_," Annabeth warns, struggling against his arm and finally breaking free, rounding on him. He laughs at the horrified look on her face. "Percy, I'm serious, if you even pull something _remotely _similar to that it'll be the end of this friendship and I'll never—"

Percy laughs again, since Annabeth taking him seriously is always something to be amused by. He reaches out a hand to grasp onto her upper arm, squeezes it briefly and tries not to feel unnerved by the glare she's giving him. "Relax, Annabeth. I won't."

"I have the lurking feeling that you will," she says, narrowing her eyes like she doesn't trust him. He means to change his expression to something honest and sincere, but a rather large smile breaks out on his face when Annabeth steps closer to him, probably planning on intimidating him, judging by the way she squares her shoulders. "Percy, I swear I'll never forgive you in a million years if you leave me anything besides, like, roses."

Annabeth's ponytail brushes against his fingers where they're still wrapped around her arm. "Roses?" he asks, brow furrowing. "Never pegged you for a roses girl."

She gives him a look that's as dry as, like, a desert. "That is _so _far from the point."

Percy gives a small half-shrug, smiling down at their toes for a second. "I mean. If I _must _buy you flowers," Percy starts, mimicking her tone from earlier, "what should I get you?"

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and Percy looks down at where he's still holding onto her; watches as his thumb runs over the tan skin. He likes the way his skin looks against Annabeth's. "I like dahlias," she tells him, after a few seconds, and her voice is quieter and genuine now, enough to shift the mood entirely. Percy feels like this matters, suddenly, like this isn't just banter on any other day with Annabeth. He glances up at her before looking back to his hand. "And lilies."

"Dahlias and lilies," Percy repeats, nodding to himself and committing the flowers to memory. "I can do that." He doesn't intend to slowly drag his gaze up from her shoulder to meet her eyes, but he ends up spending more time that planned on her collarbones and, unsurprisingly, her still pretty and still pink lips. "You'll probably never have to buy me flowers, but I do like roses."

"Never pegged you for a roses boy," Annabeth says mockingly. Percy loosens his grip on her arm, worried that it might appear as though he's forcing her to stay close to him. It might just be his far-too-hopeful imagination, but he thinks she leans into his touch, like she's asking it to come back.

"They're my mom's favorite," Percy says, more that a little distracted. He's not even sure what he's rambling on about when he continues. "They became mine by default, since she had them around a lot. Mom used to garden."

Annabeth smiles. "I can totally see Sally gardening. Why'd she stop?"

"Writing became more of, like, her focus," Percy tries to explain, lifting his hand off Annabeth's arm so that he can gesture vaguely and unhelpfully. She watches his hand for a second before looking back up to his eyes. "Uh, she goes through phases with things. But she still loves gardening; we have the little plants in our window sill she takes care of."

Annabeth's eyes flit around his face, and Percy's stomach promptly ties itself in knots. A lot's changed since that first day, but Percy's nausea under Annabeth's careful gaze remains a constant. She starts a little after a moment, blinking and shaking her head. "And… Um." Annabeth seems to be at a loss for words, twisting her hands together and pulling a little at the end of her ponytail. "Your mom—she…"

"She?" Percy raises his eyebrows, unsure of where Annabeth was going with that sentence.

"I—" Annabeth stops herself, stares at him blankly for a moment before she closes her eyes. "So…"

"Are you okay?" Percy raises a hand up to feel her head, since Annabeth's acting like he does when he has a fever—spacing out and more or less unable to form a proper sentence. She's warm, but not feverish, at least not by his definition. "Annabeth?"

"I'm—" She keeps her eyes closed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I'm fine. I'm just…"

Percy's gotten so used to Annabeth being able to effortlessly articulate that he can't seem to make sense of anything she's saying. "You're just?"

"I'm…" Annabeth trails off for what feels like the millionth time. She closes her eyes even tighter, her shoulders tensing up when she releases a breath. "I'm, uh, nervous, I guess," she admits at long last. "And it made me feel nauseous there, for a second."

Percy waits, processing that, and for some reason the first thing his mouth decides to say is, "Oh, that happens to me all the time around you."

There's one, two beats, then Percy's jaw drops at his own words. Annabeth's eyes stay closed. "Shit. I—that." Now _he _sounds like the feverish one. And judging by how hot his face feels, Percy's assuming he looks the part.

"Eloquent," Annabeth comments, opening her eyes slowly before casting her eyes down, like the sunlight streaming through the trees is too much for her eyes. "Sorry, didn't mean to worry you."

Percy's stomach just _hurts _now, and his heart, too—come to think of it, a lot of his internal organs aren't being that functional right now. His lungs feel like they're locking up, refusing to let any air in or out. He feels like this is both his foot in the door and the same door slamming in his face, all at the same time. Percy has a feeling he knows why Annabeth was nervous, but… "So, uh, why were you nervous?"

Percy's glad he's on his reckless streak today, words pouring out of his mouth like they have minds of their own, because he doubts he'd be able to say anything like this on any other day. He hears rustling and a squawk, glancing over Annabeth's shoulder to see a bird flapping it's wings like they aren't quite sure what to do with them.

"Oh," Annabeth says, and the word sounds much too loud in the forest they've chosen. "I… was thinking about, uh, track—like, running—at international level and it just…" She trails off, and Percy wonders if that blatant lie sounded more composed in her head. "Nervous."

Percy inhales deeply, glad that his lungs are ready to cooperate again, and breathes it out, slowly. He shifts until he's not so much slouching against the tree; moves until his heels are pressed up against the trunk of it. His foot slips for a brief, scary moment, but he manages to steady himself, looking down at Annabeth by barely a few inches, now, rather than at eye level.

He puts one arm behind his back, bracing himself on the tree, and leans forward until his nose is touching Annabeth's. Percy waits—doesn't move an inch more until he knows she's on the same page as him.

When Annabeth presses forward herself, Percy's stomach starts turning and it doesn't stop. "Track?" he asks, which is really a waste of his own breath and both of their times.

Annabeth seems adamant about not answering him, since a few seconds go by where he hears nothing except his loud pulse and branches crackling beneath their feet. He digs his nails into the bark where he's still trying to hold himself up, his other hand hovering by his side, like it knows where it wants to be (right in the crook of Annabeth's neck, or maybe up there tangled in her curls—he'll make the decision when it comes to it). He takes a minute to breathe and makes a valiant but futile effort to keep his nerves to a minimum before he closes the space between them.

Annabeth's lips are hot against his own, and Percy looks back on a few daydreams with embarrassment. He'd always imagined kissing Annabeth would be something soft and sweet and gentle, but instead there's what feels like an ant biting his ankle, Annabeth's nails digging into his side where she's grasping onto him, and something less sweet and more like desperation in the way he kisses her.

Percy tries not to let it get out of hand, since he's a firm believer in the fact that first kisses should be _nice_, not lust-filled and heady, but Annabeth's lips are insistent and her nails are skimming over his shirt over his ribs. She moves forward and accidentally steps on his toes, but Percy barely registers that, since he's currently being pressed up against a tree by Annabeth's hand on his chest. There's bark digging into his back, which would hurt more if Annabeth wasn't using her newfound leverage to deepen the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth.

His mind blanks out for a moment, and he makes an embarrassing, muffled sound of shock when she pulls his bottom lip into her mouth, via her _teeth_. Percy forces himself to pull away, no matter how much he wants Annabeth to do what she very well pleases with his lips, and hugs onto his tree with a single arm for dear life while he teeters dangerously. He stares at her for a second, trying to catch his breath. Annabeth blinks at him, then reaches up to run her thumb across her bottom lip. That's too much for Percy to look at right now, so he tips his head back against the tree and attempts to get control of his heart rate. Instead, he ends up thinking about how Annabeth _bites lips _when she kisses, which is probably the best thing that's happened to him in ages, and doesn't do much at all to keep his pulse at a normal level. _Christ_.

The hand that was still clinging to his ribcage disappears, and Percy doesn't know if he's disappointed or relieved. He feels feverish all over at this point, but the places where Annabeth had been touching him were absolutely _burning_, a sensation similar to touching leather after it's sat under the sun for a few hours.

Percy feels bad that he didn't give her a nicer first kiss; one less teeth and touch and one more soft lips and softer smile. Though he's positive Annabeth won't have a clue what for, Percy mutters out a "sorry" while he runs his hand over his ribcage, where there's a sudden lack of heat.

He opens his eyes after another second, watching as Annabeth tucks some wispy curls behind her ears, her cheeks red and her eyes downcast. His mouth parts, and he plans on saying something, but ultimately shuts his mouth when nothing particularly charming or attractive comes to mind.

She won't meet his eyes still, instead looking at anything but. If it were anyone else, Percy would read that as either a rejection or regret, but he knows that if Annabeth was going to reject him, she would have already, and if she regretted it, he would know. Annabeth's not one for hiding how she feels—even earlier, despite her sudden inability to form sentences, she'd confessed that she was nervous. Percy likes that about Annabeth, too, since he's never had all that much luck with getting into people's heads and really understanding what they're feeling, and the fact that Annabeth typically tells him directly is just another thing for Percy to love about her.

He breathes in and out, his first steady breath in a while, and doesn't stop looking at her for a moment. "Well," he says, using one foot to step on the toes of his other foot. "Um."

"'Well' and 'um,'" Annabeth repeats, rolling her eyes. She still won't look at him properly, and Percy smiles at her brightly, even if she doesn't see it. "Real graceful with words, aren't you."

Percy scoffs. "Okay, Mrs. I Was Nervous About Track, Like Running," Percy retorts, breathy little laughs falling out. Annabeth's mouth twists up, like she's caught between frowning at him for picking on her and smiling about how ridiculous her words were, and _finally_, she looks at him.

Percy's never paid all that much attention to Annabeth's eyes—they're grey and they're intimidating is the bottom line for him, really—but there's the space next to Annabeth's eyes, where his favorite freckle on any human in the world is. He stares at it intently. He _did _promise himself he'd kiss it if he ever got the chance, and this feels like a good time.

"What is it?" Annabeth asks, keeping her voice quiet like she might break whatever they've started here. "Please tell me there isn't a bug on my face."

Though there isn't, Percy uses the pad of his thumb to sweep over the freckle, slowly leaning forward and kissing it. He doesn't have a physical copy of his bucket list, but he imagines crossing it off for the sake of it. "No bug," he promises, but doesn't really explain his fascination with the freckle either.

She must decide he's too weird to even bother with, since she doesn't ask him anything else. Rather, she tips her head forward the slightest bit, and Percy may be one of the more oblivious people in the world, but he knows Annabeth well enough to know that's his cue to kiss her again.

He gives her a nice kiss this time, sweet and a little apologetic for the one that wasn't as gentle and kind as he had imagined it in his head. Annabeth gives a happy, pleased hum when he pulls back, rubbing softly at the ribs she'd been harsh with earlier. He lets her crowd up against him, resting her face against his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around her back. In some far corner of his mind, Percy wishes he could have smelt a little better during their first kiss at the very least, and even if Annabeth's seemingly unbothered he's certain that he could use a shower.

He lifts the shoulder she's resting on a little, mumbling some nonsense about how they should get going in her ear. She presses her face against his shoulder firmly, like she's trying to communicate something he can't seem to pick up on, and steps back.

She leads the way to the road they run on, since Percy's experienced some things in the past twenty minutes that have made him forget a fair portion of other things, like, for example, the way back. She slips her fingers between his own as soon as he grabs onto her hand, like she'd wanted to do it for a while before that, and just the thought—even if it isn't true—is enough to make him smile.

;;

The day after that, Percy wakes up with the same sunlight peeking through his blinds, the same warmth from a night spent beneath his softest comforter, and the same birds making themselves known while they chirp their good mornings. He doesn't even step on his textbook this time, and makes his way to the kitchen with a different kind of warmth staying on his skin—less of a temperature one, and more of a happy one. His mother greets him over the novel in her hand, wordlessly gesturing towards the counter where his breakfast plate sits.

"It'll be cooled, by now," Sally tells him, "since you like to sleep until the rest of the city's woken up."

Even his mother's gentle teasing can't even nudge a fake frown onto his face. "Thanks, Mom," he says instead, sliding the plate into the microwave. He's only used the microwave a few times, since his visits to the kitchen mostly consist of choosing from the fruit bowl or picking at a granola bar. Never let it be said that his mother doesn't feed him well.

"You're in a good mood," she mentions, pausing for a moment before she folds a top corner of the page over.

Percy means to immediately tone down his excitement at the prospect of talking about yesterday's developments, but he ends up smiling at his feet like a loon. Sally hums in interest from her place at the table, but doesn't say anything else until he turns his back on her, reaching to get his warmed-up plate from the microwave. Sally gasps, then says, "Percy _Jackson_, are those scratch marks on your back?"

Percy reflexively slaps a hand over his back, nearly dropping his hash browns and bacon on the floor. He can feel heat rising from his neck upwards. "I—Mom. It. A tree—" He stumbles through his explanation while Sally grows more and more amused.

"Percy," she sighs, folding her hands over her book. "You can talk to me about anything."

"It was a _tree_," he almost squeaks, embarrassment creeping all over his body. He can feel the hives coming on. Sally raises both her eyebrows, untelling look on her face, and Percy swallows thickly. "I didn't…" He would rather be _anywhere _else than in this kitchen, having this conversation with his mother.

Sally sniffs, relaxes back into his seat, and picks up her novel again, flicking through it. "I know you didnt," she replies, easily, knowing smile on her face. "I'm just being Mom. Annabeth called this morning."

Percy sighs in relief. He survived the sex talk once without dying of embarrassment, but he can't make any promises if there were a repetition. "You answered my phone?" he asks, pulling a spoon out of the silverware drawer. Percy wants to use the invasion of privacy argument, but he's told his mom time and time again to answer phone calls for him if he was sleeping like the dead (which is the case, more often than not). "Uh, what all did she say?"

"That a certain boy took her on a romantic walk down some abandoned trail," his mother says, dramatically, and Percy knows that these are her own words rather than Annabeth's. "And offered to carry her over an absolute _ocean_of mud. That he kissed her while he leaned against a tree, like a gentleman."

Percy thinks that Annabeth must have only mentioned the second kiss, and thankfully spared his mother the details of the first one. He scratches the back of his neck for a second before he dives into his breakfast. "Right," Percy says, a little lost in his own thoughts. "That's it?"

"She also mentioned something about someone being, and I quote, 'very wonderful.'" Sally smiles over at him, setting her novel down once more. Warmth builds up in his chest at Annabeth's words; no matter how generic they would sound to anyone else, it means worlds to him.

Percy's euphoric smile fades, his mouth full of spicy hash browns—the same kind he's been eating since he was old enough to digest potatoes. "I can't believe she told my mom before me," he says sullenly. "'S not fair. It's _my _news, too."

"You can tell me, too," Sally says, all business. "I've been trying to work on writing male point of view, actually…"

Percy sighs, stuffing a slice of bacon in his mouth. "It was the best," he says, though it sounds like gibberish to anyone but him. He spoons more hashbrowns into his mouth. "I felt nauseous, but it still felt awesome," he continues, his mother giving him a look that says _chew with your mouth closed_. He gives a thin-lipped smile, raising another spoon of hashbrowns towards her like a toast, and doesn't offer any more indiscernible details.

Percy's not secretive usually, and there's few and far in between exceptions to his rule of being completely candid with his mother. He decides his first kiss with Annabeth'll have to be one of those exceptions, since he doesn't feel much like being swatted at half-heartedly with a rolled-up newspaper for not acting like the gentleman he was raised to be. If anything, the first kiss was Annabeth's fault—it wouldn't have been _that _steamy if Annabeth hadn't bit his lip.

Percy decides not to think about that in the kitchen, especially while his mother's a few paces away. He fumbles for his phone on the other side of the fruit basket, his mother having thankfully returned it to where he left it, and doesn't waste any time pulling up their text conversation.

** Percy: ** you told her before i could that's not fair

** Annabeth: ** I didn't mention the first kiss, you're welcome.

She sends a second message with a heart emoji, and while anyone else would read it as an 'I love you,' Percy knows it means 'you better love me for that.'

He rolls his eyes and sends back nothing but the words "very wonderful" in quotes and all. Annabeth doesn't answer, but he has a feeling she read it and smiled, so that's enough for him.

;;

Percy would be lying if he said everything carries on like normal—carries on like Percy hasn't kissed the girl he's wanted to for months, carries on like he doesn't know how Annabeth's fingertips feel on his bare skin, carries on like he hasn't memorized the smile Annabeth gives when he holds her hand—but claiming everything's changed isn't exactly honest either.

It's more like Saturday runs end with a few kisses; more like study sessions end up becoming a different kind of session altogether; more like Annabeth reaches for his hand when their arms overlap on the center console. It's like everything is normal, but all the _normal _has changed.

Percy tries to share his thoughts with Annabeth while they're working through a history study guide, and she proceeds to tell him he doesn't make any sense. He might have gotten offended at that, too, but she followed that up by hooking her chin over his shoulder, making sure all of his work was correct, and Percy found that it's pretty hard to be upset when Annabeth is affectionate with him.

And, as it turns out, Percy's not all that adverse to new things. At least not when Annabeth's a part of them. He's grown fond of the white walls in his room, too, since it kind of reminds him of Annabeth's house, and he's finally unpacked the box of track stuff, setting his trophies up on his dresser.

She looks at them a lot, admiring his abundance second place wins and belatedly congratulating him on the few firsts he has. Sometimes, just because it's Annabeth and she can't resist, she'll mention how she has a first for all his seconds, and he'll scowl like it actually bothers him.

And, because he's recently ran into some good luck, Percy gets to be on a bed with Annabeth here and there. It's just a shame that she's beating him with a pillow half the time for making a smart comment, rather than kissing him. The worst part might be that he still thinks of himself as the luckiest guy alive either way.

;;

"Join track team," Annabeth says, slapping a flyer on Percy's desk. It's bright orange, gives him a date and time, and lists his girlfriend as the person to direct all questions to. Percy smiles stupidly at her name, in capital letters with her phone number listed below it. "Percy! Don't pause like you're considering it! You _promised_."

"_Relax_, Annabeth," Percy says with a grin. "I already signed up for try-outs earlier."

And Annabeth does relax, removing her assertive hand from his desk and crossing her arms. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Percy affirms, smirking up at her. "Heard the team captain was hot."

She promptly smacks the back of his head, which makes him smile a little brighter than he should after being slapped by his girlfriend. "Shut _up_," Annabeth mutters, partly scandalized and probably a little flattered, too.

She slides into the seat behind him, then ruffles his hair apologetically where she'd hit him. He turns in his seat and tells her good morning, places his hand over hers, and listens to her while she recites her schedule for the rest of the day.

He joins track team and he might be the slightest bit favorited by the team captain. He also tends to spend a lot more one-on-one time with the best runner at the school, and, like always where Annabeth's concerned, Percy isn't complaining in the slightest.

;;;


End file.
